Blood Work
by James Elrick
Summary: This is the first Manhunt fan fiction. Vincent McNeil wakes up to find himself in the desolate town of Carcer City in this side story to Manhunt. Read and Review please...
1. Disclaimer and Prolouge

___________________________  
  
Title: Blood Work  
  
Written By: Elrickian  
  
Edited By: MisterGray  
  
E-Mail: chrisr07@earthlink.net  
  
AIM: JimBelmont07  
  
Started: November 25, 2003  
  
Finished: January 22, 2004  
  
___________________________  
  
This fanfiction is based on Rockstar's newest game, Manhunt. This is not a comedy like my other two fics; so if your looking for the zaniness I had in MGZ, go away. Anyways-I don't own the rights to Manhunt, so please don't sue me. Also, I am not connected with Rockstar in anyway, so this story is NOT what really happened. Its just fiction, so deal with it.  
  
This Fanfiction is rated R for a reason. It contains descriptions of strong, graphic violence/gore, extreme language, mature themes, and a scene of rape. This fic isn't meant for everyone, so please... I STRONGLY advise you not to read this if you get offended by any of the material here. If you do read it, try not to bitch to me about how bad the subject matter is in this, cause I warned you.  
  
Finally, please review.  
  
Prologue  
  
May 12th, 2004,1:56 AM...  
  
Starkweather sat behind his desk in his private office on the fourth floor of  
  
his mansion. He was absolutely furious. Some would even go so far as to say mad; stark raving mad. How could they do this to him? HIM! Critically acclaimed he was, and now... Now they considered him to be filth... Common trash you find on the street... Perhaps it was his slightly unusual fascination with death that did him in? And even though it may be true that most people find the mysteries of dying to be quite the intrigue, few are attracted to it in the way that he  
  
had grown to be. Sexually attracted to it, in fact. For every crimson spray escaping from some hapless chump's jugular, his own blood began to get hot. Every final jerking movement of a body's nerves a symphony of death to him, a tribute to the mysteries- the eroticism, the exotic nature of the un- life. The power, the power was what truly compelled him. These people, stars in their own right- they had been ripped from their lives, for HIM. He paid to see it, he was the customer- and the customer is always right. Apparently, however, society didn't quite see it his way.  
  
So perhaps he had a collection of so-called 'snuff' films. Why the commotion? They were every bit a masterpiece as a Van Gogh, were they not? Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder. And should some see beauty only in throats and heartbeats being stamped out, so be it then. Luckily however- at least luckily for him, he was able to get out scott-free due to his lawyer. A truly talented man, that. The trial a cynical tribute to the inner workings of the justice system, along with a lovely example of how swayed by money people tend to be. And should these people, these average citizens, happen to be members of the jury and witnesses...Well, no doubt the point has been made. However, none of this ruckus was of any particular help his movie career... No motion picture company would let him direct, certainly not. The publicity, and understandably so, would be terrible. But did they not see that it was worth the risk? This was art, to put it lightly!  
  
He sat there, furious, praying that the woman who snooped through all his files and belongings would die a slow, and painful death... That bitch... How could she? It was her; she ruined him! All her, and nobody else. Granted, the films were his- but she had no right to access them; a crucial point in his trial indeed. Mock trial, more adequately phrased.  
  
But then, and only then did a wonderful thought hit home. A wonderful, conniving, vengeful- but not entirely impossible thought. Too long had he simply held a passion, an appreciation for his precious pieces of death- art. Why not return something to the underground community that had made he himself so joyous through all the good times and all the bad? His lips parted into a nearly malicious, some would even say twisted sort of grin as this sunk in deeper, unfurling into a decisive conclusion. He could still direct. Yes, he could indeed direct.  
  
November 15th, 2004...3:56pm  
  
And soon enough, wouldn't you know, all was in place. Carcer City, the worst place in the US without a shadow of a doubt. A corrupt police force, overrun with criminals, a slum on every corner and a populace so accustomed to seeing gratuitous acts of gang-war violence that he would bet half of them honestly would not give half a shit if they saw a man die right before them. He figured that it was good he was quite rich- for death, or his brand of it, would not come cheap. The works he had seen, all lacking sport! A woman tied to a chair and beaten to death, small children suffocated with minimal violence...Truly, this would not suffice any longer. For he had money, and he knew people who wanted it. And who wanted it, one may inquire, more than those who have none? The poor? And what do the poor often do, to acquire money? Crime. And what would a fellow refer to a group of semi-organized criminals as?  
  
A gang. Yes, gangs. Primitive, lowlifes, not a care for anything but themselves- could it really get any easier to manipulate them? He thought not. Turns out he was quite correct. The concept was simple- find some scum in the dregs of society, acquire this person, and capture every waking second of their struggle not to be killed by his goons. It was simple, yet truly a new-age Circus Maximus. Several minutes and phone calls later, things were starting to look up.  
  
He felt his pants constrict somewhat. A smile followed. He couldn't wait to see the gore, and that would easily explain his erection- anxiety, but entirely in a pleasing way. A few minutes and hand motions later, Mr. Starkweather felt superb. Of course now his pants and hand were sloppy at best, but it was hardly a concern. The less-than-sane sort of smile perpetually working across his features refused to stop at anything short of commandeering his entire face as the stout man began for the nearest restroom; such a large mansion indeed had many. Soon... Soon he could finally direct again... And just as soon he would be able to see mass amounts of gore- and with this thought, he felt another urge coming on. Were it physically possible to smile in a more blissful way, he had yet to figure it out. Several seconds later in the restroom, he sat down on the toilet to relieve himself a second time.  
  
(Next- Deal With A Devil) 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One: Deal With A Devil  
  
(November 25th, 10:34pm)  
  
The room was cold and dark. He sat up, and saw he was on the floor in this cold dark place. This sure as hell wasn't the hospital.  
  
The last thing Vincent McNeil remembered was being hit by that fucking pickup truck. He knew that wasn't his imagination since he hurt all over. He reached up and squeezed his right shoulder. It hurt like fucking hell, and he winced in pain. Definitely dislocated...  
  
Vince: "Shit."  
  
He stood up, using his left arm for support, and then walked over to a wall. He readied himself for the pain he was about to feel, and then slammed his injured shoulder against said wall, popping it back into its rightful place. He screamed in intense pain, but at the very least it was quick. Far from painless, but quick.  
  
Director: "Ah... I see our star has finally woken up. Rise and shine sweetie, wouldn't want to miss the bus. Ahah."  
  
Vince looked around the room for the source of the comment.  
  
Director: "It doesn't matter where it came from." A slow sort of drawl, patronizing at the very least, seemed to follow the voice.  
  
Vince quickly spotted the intercom in the upper left corner of the room.  
  
Director: "There is an ear bud on the table to your left. Pick it up, and place it in your ear."  
  
Vince: "Who the fuck are you, and why the fuck should I do what you say?!" Enraged, naturally- disoriented at best, to be specific.  
  
Director: "What matters is I have all the cards, and your life is in my hands. If you want to survive this hell, you're going to want to listen to me and do what I say. And you sure as hell don't want them to hear me directing you, do you?"  
  
Vince: "What the fuck are you talking about?" By this point his rage had somewhat quelled- or so he put on a good illusion of it. Forced control was indeed necessary, he had to find out what the fuck was going on.  
  
Director: "Just put the fucking ear bud in, will you?" Curt at best, slightly impatient.  
  
Vince waked slowly over to the table, and picked up the piece. He then slowly placed it in his right ear. And lo and behold- through it, he heard that voice.  
  
Director: "There we go... That wasn't so hard now, was it? You can hear me good, can't you?" Vince: "Yeah..." Director: "Good. Very good."  
  
A buzz emanated from the massive set of alloy double doors in front of Vince, causing him to glance at them on instinct.  
  
Director: "There you go... The door is unlocked. Now go outside."  
  
Vince: "Now just you wait a fucking minute. I want to know what the fuck is going on here, now!" The man found himself quite angle to suppress his frustration any longer, which was displayed very colorfully in his voice.  
  
Director: "I'll tell you when you get outside... NOW MOVE!"  
  
Vince slowly walked outside. The sky was filled with dark, dark clouds; however it was obvious it was night. He felt a cool breeze, and he realized how very chilly it was. He shivered just a bit, and tried to remember just what happened.  
  
His cover had been blown, and the cops were looking for him. He was the leader of the group, which robbed a local Bank of America, and they finally caught up to him. Of course, he bailed. It was every man for himself, and he was a man out for himself. He ran as fast as he could; through alleyways and side streets. Anywhere to get away. And then it happened. He was running across the intersection, when WHAM! He was hit by a fucking pickup truck! From what he could see, he got pretty banged up from it, and he blacked out. Next thing he knew, he was in this shit-hole getting orders from some prick on the other end of a radio.  
  
Wherever the fuck 'here' was, that's where you'd find him. And right now, 'here' was the last place he wanted to be. But now, it seemed the only thing he could do was just do what Mr. Asshole wanted, and hope for the best.  
  
Director: "Good boy."  
  
Vince: "Now, who the fuck are you, and where the fuck am I?"  
  
Director: "I guess that's the least I could do. You are in Carcer City, which is my set. I am the director, and you are the star."  
  
Vince: "What the fuck are you talking about?"  
  
Director: "You're the star of my newest film, of course."  
  
Vince: "Where are the cameras then?"  
  
Director: "They are everywhere. Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they can't see you."  
  
Vince smirked.  
  
Vince: "Alright... Then what do you want- NEED me to do?"  
  
Director: "To survive, and rack up a huge body count. This town is filled with ruthless, bloodthirsty cock-smokers who like to call themselves gangs. However, I'm here to help you. I'll tell you what you need to do, and I'll guide you through each scene. However, I need you to do me a favor being that I'm nice enough to help you."  
  
Vince: "What?"  
  
Director: "I want you to kill as many of these low life pieces of shit as you can! They are filth! No better than the common piece of scum you'd find under a rock! And besides... With you doing killing, that means better scenes... And I love better scenes."  
  
Vince: "So you're filming snuff films?"  
  
Director: "You could say that."  
  
Vince: "You're one twisted prick, you know that?"  
  
Director: "That's what some people say. But it doesn't matter."  
  
Vince: "Why the fuck should I do this for you anyway?"  
  
Director: "Like I said: I hold all the cards, besides. You survive this night, you win your freedom."  
  
Vince: "..."  
  
Director: "There you go. Now I hope you don't have another tantrum..."  
  
Vince: "Alright... What first?"  
  
(Next- Souls of the Lost) 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Souls of the Lost  
  
(10:35pm)  
  
Kevin walked slowly down the dark, empty streets of Carcer City. He saw Jim about a half hour ago, but since then it'd been dead quiet, and no people in sight.  
  
Kevin: "Shit. I'm freezing my balls off out here..."  
  
He then smiled, thinking of the payoff. The gang which found him would receive $10,000 each, and the actual person would get one-hundred grand. His smile grew as he thought of what he would do with that kind of dough. All the shit he would buy, all the whores he would fuck.  
  
And this was the last thought poor Kevin thought before plastic obscured his vision, and he found it quite hard to breath.  
  
Shit, he let his guard down, and now he was paying for it with his life. He clawed at the bag, and let out a cry for help. However, this was muffled and the bag only went deeper into his mouth. He felt his life slowly drain form him. It was no doubt about it. He was fucked. Suffocating to death. His efforts grew weaker, and then he grew limp... Dead within a minute.  
  
Vince let go of the bag, and the body fell to the floor.  
  
Director: "Oh god, that was so fucking beautiful, but it could have been better. Crank up the violence and gore several notches."  
  
This was Vince's third victim of the night. Though he was glad he was keeping his sorry ass alive a few minutes longer than it should be, he felt a bit guilty. For murder was the one thing he despised... Aside from rape and the molestation of a child, of course. But he reminded himself that this was for his own good. He had to kill if he wanted to survive. If he was somehow caught and taken in by the fuzz, they would understand... Wouldn't they? This was simple Darwinian law...  
  
He would have loved to stay and contemplate this topic longer, but he heard footsteps.  
  
He lifted up the corpse, and placed it in the nearest open dumpster. He then quickly moved into a nearby building, and went into a shadowy corner.  
  
He heard the other walking along, quite foolish. He quickly drew the glass shard he picked up a bit ago from his pocket, and hit the wall with his fist. The footsteps stopped.  
  
Jim: "HAHA! You're mine, asshat!" Truly brilliant, giving his exact position away like that.  
  
The man ran into the room, stupidly of course, and looked around. Vince was deep within the shadows, so unless he moved right when the man was looking or made a noise, the man would never see him.  
  
Jim: "You can't hide forever! I know you're here!"  
  
He turned around, and that would be his last mistake.  
  
McNeil stabbed the shitfuck in the back. The shard went in deep, and to muffle the scream he put his hand so it covered the Victim's mouth. He rammed the former-window in deeper, and considered it extremely lucky that he had found a piece of cloth to wrap around what was now the handle. Blood began to ooze forth from the prick's mouth. Starkweather sat there with perhaps the biggest hard-on of the night, giggling with glee. But wait- now what the fuck was THIS?! The Hood was still alive, and McNeil was pulling the shard out of his back.  
  
Starkweather: "FUCKER!"  
  
He reached for the microphone to scream at McNeil, but stopped. It looked like he is going to... OH GOD! He felt a sudden rush of joy, and then moaned with a deep satisfying moan of ecstasy and made a mess of his pants. He smiled, quite content, as McNeil pulled the shard out of the Hood's right eye socket, and stabbed it in the left socket.  
  
Vince let the body fall to the ground, and looked shocked. He just got so into it...Was he somehow enjoying this?  
  
Director: "OH FUCKING YES! I'M SO FUCKING HARD RIGHT NOW, AND I'VE MADE SUCH A BIG FUCKING MESS! McNeil! I can see we're going to work well together after all! AHAHA!"  
  
Vince: "That's a little bit more than I wanted to know..."  
  
Director: Vincent my boy... I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."  
  
Vince ignored anything else the Director said, and simply dragged the body to the shadows... Hopefully no one would discover it.  
  
He bent down, and picked up the crowbar the recent cadaver had in his possession. This followed by wiping most of the blood off his hands and face, and exiting the building. He walked to the chain-locked gate at the south end of this area, and opened it with his newly acquired crowbar. A valuable asset, he deemed this tool would become.  
  
Starkweather got up from his chair, and proceeded to change his pants. Minutes later, there was a rapping at the door. Without delay, the fellow stood from the cozy confines of his chair and saw to the matter of answering it.  
  
Starkweather: "Yes?"  
  
Cerberus Leader: "Sir, we have Cash in our custody, and have placed him at the location you ordered us to." Truly an intimidating man, some six feet and four inches of trained muscle. Garbed in black and blue armor, almost matched the bruises they left on the stars. Bruises, if said stars were quite lucky. Starkweather had held back no money when outfitting his squad of Grade-A killers- they had the newest armor variations, gas masks with some vision-enhancing traits, and all manner of other goodies.  
  
Starkweather: "Beautiful..."  
  
Cerberi Leader: "Yes- and by the way sir, have you been mainly watching McNeil?"  
  
Starkweather: "Yes... He was new so I decided to focus more on him."  
  
Cerberi Leader: "Then I guess you don't know. Our men found Wilson. It appears the Skinz bludgeoned him to death."  
  
Starkweather: "Hmm...What a pity I missed it... I can watch it in a few minutes, though."  
  
Cerberi Leader: "Sir, that's not all. Graham was thoroughly ganged rapped and then gutted by the Innocentz, and we found parts of Smith in the area of the Smilies."  
  
Starkweather: "AHAH! Sounds great. I'll have to watch them. Any news on the others?"  
  
Cerberi Leader: "No sir. It appears Lockley, McReinheart, and Yamada are still alive and well. And when Cash wakes up, there will be him as well."  
  
Starkweather: "Beautiful. Simply beautiful."  
  
(Next Chapter- The Damned Ones) 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The Damned Ones  
  
(11:12pm)  
  
He had it all set up, now all he needed was actors... Or actresses. And so, after screening all the talent he could find, he finally had no less than eight lucky people to star in his movie. He looked at the list, and a miniscule smile played over his face. This act in of itself reminded him of the Smilies, and he soon found the expression widening.  
  
Graham, Karen- Prison Transfer Guard Lockley, Heather- His Own Personal Secretary McNeil, Vincent- Convicted Bank Robber McReinheart, Jon- Mass Psychopathic Murderer Smith, Tom- Prison Transfer Guard Wilson, Christopher- Drug Dealer Yamada, Hiro- Undercover Cop  
  
And finally...There was the infamous JAMES EARL CASH to add.  
  
And the thought of the body count Cash would leave...God... He felt it again- mainly due to the fact he had Cash at his fingertips...  
  
He looked at his keyboard, and opened some files. He was bored right now, and decided to take a look at the deaths of GRAHAM, SMITH, and WILSON... If Cash woke up, he would know... He had motion trackers set up in the room Cash was in... He soon located the file, and opened it.  
  
(Next Chapter- Footage From the Past) 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four- Footage From the Past  
  
(5:45pm)  
  
He ran... Ran faster than he ever ran in his whole fucking life. It was just turning dark in this god-forsaken city. Running from this nightmare. They were insane. So insane he thought it was rubbing off on himself... Thomas Smith had never been more frightened in his whole damn life. He heard their deranged-at-best screams, and forever dreaded becoming a cop to begin with.  
  
He heard the gunshot, and saw the dirt to his right explode into the air. He pissed himself, and ran faster. A corner! He whirled around it, and spied a door. He quickly slammed into the heavy thing, using all of his weight.  
  
He crashed against it, but it didn't open. There was pain, but it refused to budge.  
  
Smiley #1: "BARRY! Get your ass back here! We need to talk!"  
  
The voices were quickly drawing closer, and if he didn't hurry he would die. He crashed against it a second time. Nothing. He did it a third time, and it crashed open. He stumbled inside, and ran down the hall. He heard them turning the corner outside as he ran up the stairs.  
  
Smiley #2: "GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING SHOES! I WANT MY FUCKING SHOES!"  
  
Smiley #3: "SQUIBBLY RIBBLY GRIBLY BIBBLY FIBBLY GRIBBLY RIBBLY BEAR!"  
  
He was at the halfway mark, and sped up the rest of the way. He hurled his weight against the wall near the stairs, so anyone running up them couldn't see him. Luckily he was in the shadows...  
  
Smiley #1: YOU WERE MESSING AROUND WITH THAT WHORE AGAIN?! WEREN'T YOU?! That's it! I've had it! I'm moving back to Mom's!  
  
From what it sounded, there were only 3 of them...Not good, but it could be worse...He had to take them out...His grip tightened on his blackjack.  
  
Smiley #2: "Wait! Look! You see! I know where you went! YOU WANNA KNOW WHY?! YOUR FOOTPRINTS! THEY ARE THE FOOTPRINTS OF MY MOTHER FUCKING SHOES!"  
  
He had to do it... It was his only chance. He perked up as one came dashing up the stairs, and then struck like a viper.  
  
As the gang member attempted to run through the doorway from the stairs, Tom extended his arm out in a quick manner, hitting the Smiley right in the neck. The decorated man stumbled back a bit, and fell down the stairs. Perfect clothesline move.  
  
And he felt the cold stab of pain in his gut before he heard the gunshot. He stumbled into the doorway, and fell down the stairs, landing ontop of the dead body. His breathing became shallow, and blood seeped past his own hands, which currently covered his gut's new entrance wound. Blood slowly came up out of his mouth as he tried to speak. He looked up the stairs, and saw one of them with a .38 Revolver... He was careless, and didn't see him in time... Damnit!  
  
He looked to his right, and saw the other two walking towards him. Like all Smileys, they wore yellow Smiley face masks. Some of them had things written on them in blood. In this case, one of them had "Please Stop Me" scrawled across the visage. The one standing next to him was in a pink, Sunday dress. He looked back up the stairs, and saw the Smiley there holster his .38, and draw a meat-cleaver. Slowly began to walk down the stairs then, approaching at an excruciatingly tension-building pace. He looked back to his right flank, and the other two cheery-looking gentlemen followed suit.  
  
Smiley #1: "Kids, go upstairs and don't you dare come down! Your FATHER and I need to have a little talk!"  
  
He began to think of his family. His little girl would be turning 7 in a few weeks, and he promised to get her some new dollies to play with...  
  
Smiley #2: "Your gonna pay for taking my fucking shoes!"  
  
Next was his beautiful wife, Clara... He thought of the first day they met, the day they were wed, and the day they had their daughter... She was such a loving wife...  
  
Smiley #4: "Fug gonna have fun! FUG FUG, FUN FUN!"  
  
And as they grew nearer, he heard screaming... It was his own...  
  
(7:08pm)  
  
He saw them walking along in the junkyard... They were the Skinz. Two of them had metal baseball bats, and another had a nail gun... They were patrolling the area, and the situation was 'now or never'.  
  
Christopher Wilson was busted several times for dealing, and right now he was on probation... He was offered a job by some guy to star in some movies, which would help pay for a shipment of heroin which would be coming in soon... He didn't know it was gonna be like this, though...  
  
One of them passed his hiding spot... One with a bat. It was really dark in this area, so he attacked.  
  
He lifted the metal wire up and over the man's head, and pulled back, strangling him. He could hear the bloody gasps coming from his victim, and he didn't care. The man's back collapsed as he tried to grab the wire and break free, and soon blood was pouring down his throat.  
  
Wilson was not that tall, only 5'8", but he managed to bring this 6'3" behemoth to his knees. He then placed his knee on this freaks mid-back, and began to pull back in a sawing motion. The victim stopped gasping, but he kept pulling back. After about five solid jerks, the head was completely severed from the body.  
  
He lifted the head, and looked into its dead eyes. He couldn't see the rest of its face due to the hockey mask covering it. He picked up the bat, and then crept along the shadows...  
  
Another was mere feet away... He came up with a plan in seconds. He tossed the head gently over into a corner, which left this next victim's back facing him. The cock-knocker heard it, and walked into the corner. He gasped, but that is all he could do.  
  
Within a fraction of a second and a burst of adrenaline, Wilson was on him. He smacked him in the back of the head, and the man turned around. It was then a smack to the face. The gang member fell down to the floor, dead.  
  
Christopher: "Good... One more left in this area...Then I can rest..."  
  
He crept along the shadows... But he couldn't see his adversary anywhere...  
  
Skin # 1: "THERE! THERE'S THAT FILTHY HALF-BREED!"  
  
Shit, he was spotted. He did the only thing he could do... Well, run.  
  
It would be suicide to take them all on, especially when they might have nail guns. So he just ran.  
  
Skin #3: "LOOK AT HIM RUN! IT SHOWS HE'S AN INFERIOR RACE!"  
  
Skin #1: "ARYAN SONS! WE HAVE FOUND HIM! HELP YOUR BROTHERS!"  
  
Skin # 2: "AS I WALKED THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH!"  
  
Christopher: "Shit! Fuck! Shitfuck!"  
  
He ran, darting in and out of the junk lying around. Cars, tires, bottles, trash. Anything and everything.  
  
He spotted a crane, and ran for it. He darted underneath it, hiding in the shadows. Seconds latter, the trio of Skinz came out from where he came from.  
  
Skin #1: "What the?! Where the fuck did he go?!"  
  
Skin #2: "You can't hide from the wrath of God, demon!"  
  
Skin #3: "You see that?! He's hiding! That's where he came from! Hiding under a fucking rock, and that's where he crawled back to!"  
  
Skin #1: "Yeah! Yellow bastard!"  
  
Skin# 3: "Fucking inferior races, man! They always hide from the justice they deserve! White is right!"  
  
They all agree in unison, and walk off. He sat there, underneath the crain with his heart beating with such force, it could rip from his chest if it wanted to. He waited about a half an hour, and then crawled out from under the crane.  
  
And he felt cold steel against the back of his skull as he crawled out. He fell on the floor.  
  
Skin #4: "Got ya you fucking sonovabitch! GUYS! I FOUND HIM!"  
  
He felt more pain. Over and over again. He was beating him with his bat. He felt his bones break, and his blood spray. He yelped in pain, and screamed. Begging for them to stop. The others arrived, and joined in.  
  
Skin # 1: "Quit your sniveling!"  
  
And then there was no more thought as a cold alloy bat slammed into Wilson's skull, splattering brain and shards of bone everywhere. His last thought was of heroin...  
  
They continued beating him for some time, but then stopped when they decided it was enough. By then though, there was no way in hell to identify the corpse.  
  
(9:21pm)  
  
She couldn't believe this was happening... It seemed so fucking odd! But it didn't matter, she had McReinheart back in custody, and would escape from this hell with him and drag his ass back to prison... If they could get out of this fucking shopping mall.  
  
Jon: "Y'know hun, you sure got a pretty fine ass considering you're an officer of the law. Ten-twenty four in the mall, we got an ass that needs to be set free. Callin' for immediate back-that-ass-up."  
  
Karen: "Shut the fuck up!" she hissed, "Do you wanna have them find us?!"  
  
Jon: "Well sure, sugarpants. Beats the shit out of waiting around like this." A sly half-grin crept across his face, "'Less of course, you wanna get down, work-it a bit with myself."  
  
They've been in this empty bar for the past hour. She managed to acquire a handgun, which was very good. Very good indeed.  
  
Jon: "Babe, if I was hunting you down, I'd rape you. I'd rape you viciously, using my knife to slowly cut you as I did so." Eying her steadfast grip on the firearm as he spoke, but of course.  
  
Karen: "But you're not hunting me... Are you?"  
  
Jon: "Aww, ain't that cute. It's like a five-year old asking what I did to mommy, and why the walls are painted so badly." A pause. "But once I'm through with the little one, who will ask about that? Couldn't fit into a baby, not like they can talk anyways..." His train of thought returned to motion, eyes snapping back to two of the police force's greatest assets. "Hm- oh, right. You gotta pay attention, shug. I said 'IF', key word there."  
  
And during all this, she had to deal with this shit... But let's see... What the fuck DID happen, exactly?  
  
It was November 24th, and it was pretty late... So it probably was early morning on today... But the fucking date isn't important, what is important is what happened.  
  
Tom was driving, and I was dozing. McReinheart was quiet all the way...And then we got a flat...Tom got out, and he was instantly swamped with men who had assault rifles. They forced us out of the van, and took McReinheart out as well... One then shot us, but it seems that it was a tranquilizer dart and nothing lethal.  
  
Next thing she knew, she was in some room and some man was giving her orders through an intercom, telling her how she was an actress in his "movie". Snuff films... Jesus fucking fuck, if she got out of there she would SO bust this guy...  
  
But she doesn't even know who he is? 'How can I bust him if I don't know who the fuck he is', she thought silently. It'd been about two hours since she last heard from the guy... Right around when she found McReinheart.  
  
He had a relatively small knife, and was simply defiling a corpse with it. Forcefully dragging the edge gradually across any part of its flesh... She then raised the firearm, and took him into custody. After about an hour, they stumbled across this mall...  
  
And she heard the footsteps... Slow footsteps walking on the pathway...They sometimes came by, glancing in here, but not fully going in here... Bad move, amigo.  
  
This man... He was fat, and wore a green Hawaiian-type shirt. He also had a baby face mask on, which was really creepy- But that wasn't the worst... No, It had to be the way he talked which was the worst...  
  
Innocentz #1: "Its alright honey... Daddy would never hurt his special little girl... You can come out... I'd never do anything to harm yo- COME HERE YA LITTLE SHIT!"  
  
She shuddered at this, along with almost anything else he said. He passed, and was gone about three minutes later.  
  
Jon: "Come on, officer... Just one fuck. You're gonna bring me back to prison, where the only folks to fuck are guys named 'Bubba', or perhaps we might even die here..." His voice became cheerful with the thought, "Besides, fucking is a great way to relive tension. Good exercise, too. Hup- hup, let's go."  
  
Karen: "And you have done what exactly to the other women you had sex with? Fuck yourself." She recalled the files. It was on pure accident, being as she never wanted to recall them again.  
  
Jon: "Ma'am, don't get me wrong, I love to. But I need some work-it stew, got to acquire this warm wetness of yours and make it my own. Know what I'm saying?"  
  
Karen: "Well, you can just forget it."  
  
Jon: "Brrr!" Game show buzzer sound, "Wrong answer! And I thought I was growing fond of you, officer."  
  
With what seemed like inhuman speed, his right arm coiled back and sent itself flying forth again- fist spearheading the brisk movement, of course. Made a pleasant 'whump' sound as it bridged the gap between his knuckles, and her gut. She fell over, onto her back, and the gun slid across the floor. He stood up, and kicked her in the ribs with the only compassion showing being that which he harbored for violence. Obviously cracking one... She yelped in pain, and he grabbed the gun and holstered it within one of his previously-worthless pockets. Without delay the young man reached down, knife drawn by this point and extended towards the lass's throat. One could almost hear it pulsating with alarmed life flowing through her veins by this point- a sound which he always thought reminiscent of creaking bed-springs.  
  
Jon: "Don't worry, after a while you'll asphyxiate on vomit- if you get lucky. By the way, did I mention I like to deepthroat?"  
  
Karen: "Fuck you!"  
  
Jon: "Ah, you know your orders well."  
  
Trailing his tongue slowly across the woman's face by now, up the left cheek to lap up a single salty tear. He flicked it back into his mouth, half-grinned, and went on to effortlessly lop her undershirt asunder. It went quite quickly, a typical routine to him. Mm-mm. Only thing keeping him from that pert rack now was a bra, and that could be easily-  
  
Innocentz #1: " I HEARD YOU! I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"  
  
Innocentz #2: "Esse, I can smell your white ass miles away!"  
  
Jon paused, looked up, and smiled.  
  
Jon: "Hmm... I'll get back to you on this, yes?"  
  
And with that, he darted his tongue into her mouth for a quick kiss, and sprinted off into the back room and out the window. Short, light red hair flashing in the moonlight for just a second as he did so. Karen bolted upwards, and tried to follow him, but something caught her by the hair, and she hit the ground. Hard. When she opened her eyes, four men were standing above her. Two with guns, and two with knives.  
  
Innocentz #2: "This chica es real white, homes."  
  
Innocentz #1: "Daddy found you, sweetie. Now it's alright, just come here and- RAPE, RAPE, RAPETTY RAPE!" Bursting into literally hysterical laughter upon this change of tone.  
  
The other two remained silent, but proceeded to drop their weapons just out of the hapless lady's reach. Of course, the weapons weren't the only things they dropped. Pants, elbows, and kneecaps also fell down onto the girl- the latter two with far more force than she'd ever cared to notice. The woman simply found herself curling into a ball, and closing her eyes as she waited for death. Quickly flipped onto her back, Karen's legs were forced open- and not coincidentally at the exact same time she heard the familiar 'shink' of a blade being unsheathed.  
  
Innocentz #4: "A'ight homes, we goin' in for surgery! Gotta cut her open and save the 'tang!"  
  
Innocentz #3: "Urr-hooo! Urrhuurrr! Go to hospitable! Weee-oooo, weeeee- oooo!" A voice that seemed to sum up all aspects of mental retardation gone awry.  
  
Valuable lessons were learned by all parties that day indeed. Karen learned never to drop her guard, but sadly could make no practical use of this knowledge. The Innocentz, meanwhile, had an eye-opening view of erotic brutality that day. After each took his respective term, the woman was deemed no longer fit for occupation by any of them. The blood was a lovely effect, but all that wretched stickiness around it made things less-than- habitable.  
  
Five minutes later, Starkweather now saw that it was physically possible to ram a severed leg up to the kneecap into any feminine orifice that had been properly prepared. Good to know.  
  
(Next- Chaingang) 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Chaingang  
  
(10:55pm)  
  
McNeil slowly traversed the long passage way. It had been around twenty minutes since he broke open that fucking gate, and there hadn't been a single gang member around. This gave him plenty of time to think.  
  
The first thought was pretty obvious: How the fuck to survive this hell and get revenge on that prick, "The Director".  
  
He imagined how he would kill him...Slowly, very slowly; slide a knife across every part of his body, letting him scream with pain. Let him slowly bleed to death right there... How wonderful that would feel.  
  
NO! He couldn't think thoughts like that. Psychos thought like that, not sane people... But was he really sane? It was hard for him to judge: He thought himself sane, but then again he didn't know he was capable of killing people... Especially so sadistically...  
  
His next set of thoughts was of what he would do when he got his ass out of this mess. Well, of course he would chill for a bit, and plan the next heist... He'd need a new crew of course, being that most of them were either dead or in jail...  
  
He smiled, and didn't hear the movement of gravel perhaps twenty feet in front of him.  
  
He then thought of his family...It's been awhile since he saw his mother and sister, but he thought of how good it would be to see them. All three of them, in the living room talking about the good old days when dad was alive...How great that wou-  
  
A bright light flashed on, obscuring his vision. He stumbled back a few steps, and heard the cock of automatic rifles.  
  
???: "Drop the fucking crowbar, and lay yourself flat on the fucking ground!" the unknown figure screamed loudly.  
  
Fucking hell... Smooth move... He was set up... The cops did this. It would explain it all. They set him up to kill innocent people just so they could get him in jail longer... He wanted to believe this... But there was a part of him which knew it wasn't the cops.  
  
???: "I said drop the fucking crowbar," he screamed even louder than before, "and get your fucking ass on the fucking ground! NOW!"  
  
What else to do? He dropped his weapon, and laid on his stomach, face touching the floor.  
  
One of the men walked up to him, and handcuffed him. He then felt the ass grab the back of his shirt, and lift him to his knees. And then there was darkness.  
  
It appeared they didn't want him to know where he was going, so they placed what appeared to be a burlap bag over his head. He couldn't see jack shit, but he could hear them. They mumbled stuff, and then they lifted him and threw him into something... Most likely a van.  
  
And it was a van. He heard it start up, and proceed to drive off, carrying him in the back.  
  
After perhaps the longest ten minutes of his life, the van stopped. Minuets later, he heard the door open, and was dragged out of said van. He stood there, in the darkness...  
  
He felt them cuff something onto his leg, and then felt them undo his handcuffs. Then they hit him in the kneecap, bringing him back down to his knees... And they then drove away, quite simply. He reached up with his now free hand, and removed the bag from his head.  
  
He stood up, and looked at his ankle. It was a chain, about a foot long. At the end of the chain, was another man. He appeared to be Japanese, and was standing up. He didn't like where this was going already.  
  
Director: "Aha, Vince! I thought you looked lonely, so I found you a playmate! McNeil, meet Lieutenant Hiro Yamada... He's an undercover cop, sent here to spy on me..."  
  
Hiro: "Fuck you, Starkweather!"  
  
Starkweather: "Aww, no fair! You told Vincey-boy my name! Boo hoo...Ahh well, I guess he would have found out eventually. Anyways, Hiro, meet Vincent McNeil. He's a convicted bank robber, and so far is my personal favorite actor!"  
  
Hiro: "I don't give a rat's ass who the fuck he is! What the shit are you trying to pull?!"  
  
Vince: "I'd like to know the same fucking thing."  
  
Starkweather: "Well...I've set up a little game for you both to play. You both like games, don't you?"  
  
Vince: "Fuck you and your fucking game!"  
  
Starkweather: "I'll take that as a yes... Anyways, this is a REALLY fun game which I know you both will enjoy! Its simple too. All you have to do is go into the zoo, find a girl who is being held captive, and make it back here to the gate to your left. However, there are some rules to this game."  
  
Hiro: "And what might they be?"  
  
Starkweather: "1) At least one of you has to be alive when you reach the girl and reach this gate. If both you and McNeil are dead, the game is over. If one of you is dead, the game is still on. 2) The girl MUST be brought to the gate. I don't care about her condition. Her body has to make it back here. I don't give a rat's ass if she's dead or not, but it will be more kudos to you both if you bring her back alive. 3) If one of you dies, you have to also bring the other's dead body back here... And that's it!"  
  
Vince: "You're one twisted fucker, Starkweather."  
  
Starkweather: "Aww, that's not a very nice thing to say to your bestest friend in the entire world, now is it?"  
  
Vince: "Go to hell."  
  
Starkweather: "Vince, if we are to remain friends you have to start thinking with your head and stop saying such hurtful things."  
  
Hiro: "Bastard..."  
  
Starkweather: "See?! Now you're getting HIM to turn against me! I don't know what I would do if you weren't my friend Vince... But I'm willing to let your insults go by right now...Anyways, I have some...Shall I say, business to attend to, so you two have fun!"  
  
Vince: "STARKWEATHER?!"  
  
Silence... He turned off the radio, and there was no way to contact him...  
  
Hiro: "This is just fucking great...I'm stuck with a convict."  
  
Vince: "Fuck you! I'd rather be chained to Starkweather than you, you asshole!"  
  
Hiro: "Just shut the fuck up...We gotta get going so we can get this done."  
  
They slowly walked into the entrance of the zoo, not knowing anything, which would happen from then on...  
  
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Jon was standing in the shadows with his switchblade drawn. He slowly snuck up behind an Innocentz member, quite adept at silence from the sound of it- absolutely none, and got him in a headlock. Left arm darted out, wrapped around the other's throat, and yanked down hardly. The blade was, naturally, forced up against the man's jugular.  
  
Jon: "Now, I'ma gonna ask you this just once, frijole: Got any black tar?" Innocentz #5: "Yeah man! Is right over their in that bag o' mine! Please, don't kil- urk!" A sickening splatter gut off his voice, halfway between a scream and a gurgle.  
  
He hated people who begged for their lives almost as much as he hated everyone else. I mean, they should pick up by the general attitude that they're not gonna make it out of the situation alive. He had simply stabbed the man in the jugular, and was soon showered in a spray of crimson. He smiled, and walked slowly towards the bag. He opened it, and sure enough: Enough heroin to last him for the rest of the week. Beautiful. Things were going his way...  
  
Well... Almost his way. If it was up to him, he would have been the one to rape that fine piece of meat... Not those fuckers! They weren't worthy of the breath God graced them with, and that's why he took them out after the rape. Honestly now, people don't have the decency to share anymore. That, and what they were doing was morally wrong- now he himself felt exempt from all this, half-convinced that there was some form of hell, and half- convinced that after death came only eternal void.  
  
During the rape, of course, he enjoyed a good beat-off, whilst he periodically drew the blade up and down his shoulders, switching hands with both tasks to do so. It was truly beautiful, this, this surreal mixture of pleasure and pain. They were meant to be enjoyed together, these two opposite extremes. Let him know he wasn't dead, like the rest of these cockers would be.  
  
He reached into the bag, and drew the needle. Into his pocket went the blade, and out of it came a length of rubber tubing. He smiled some more, and prepared to shoot up.  
  
Back in Stark weather's office, it was soon after the deaths of Graham, Wilson, and Smith... And he was hard as a rock... But that was not the most exciting thing...Cash was awake, and it was time for the real fun to begin...  
  
(Next- A Man's Worst Friend) 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Man's Worst Friend  
  
(11:20pm)  
  
Hiro didn't know what to think of the guy... He was a convict, so his first reaction was to hate the bastard to all end. But on the other hand, this guy may be able to help him bring this fucker, this Starkweather, down. With McNeil on his side, he could get a warrant for Starkweather's arrest in a few days... If he lived that long though.  
  
He watched Vince do his work, while keeping pretty fucking quiet in the meantime... There was one-man insight... But he was pretty fucking hard to see. In camouflage, blending in with his surroundings... But his back was turned. Vince drew the plastic bag they found near the entrance, and walked slowly towards the man, with Hiro right behind him. It was imperative that Hiro didn't make any noise, lest they'd both be fucked.  
  
Vince raised the bag, and pulled it over the man's head. He tried to scream, but it was muffled. Hiro watched as Vince spun him around, and began to beat the man in the face.  
  
Hiro: "Stop it! That's enough!" he whispered harshly.  
  
But Vince didn't stop. No, in fact at this comment, he broke the man's neck.  
  
Hiro: "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he snapped.  
  
Vince: "Starkweather wants brutal deaths... More deaths I give him like that, there will be a greater chance of him letting me go."  
  
Hiro: "Don't you have any fucking morals?! Don't you feel bad?!"  
  
Vince: "Of course I do! Before today, I never killed a single person in my life! But now... I've killed five...And the sick thing is I think I'm starting to enjoy it..."  
  
Hiro: "Fuck! I had to be chained to a Psychopath!"  
  
Vince: "FUCK YOU!" he snarled, "I'm perfectly sane!"  
  
Before they could continue this, they both heard a twig crack. They didn't hear anything else, but it usually meant someone was nearby if a twig cracked... Vince bent down slowly, and picked up the machete the man he killed was carrying...  
  
Vince: "Hiro... When I say so... We head for the bathrooms... Got it?"  
  
Hiro: "Yeah..."  
  
They heard nothing else. Just the wind...  
  
Vince: "NOW!"  
  
They both darted south, heading towards the bathroom area, and then they heard footsteps behind them. It was unclear how many people there were, but with two men, one being unarmed, they were most likely outnumbered.  
  
They reached the bathroom, and ran into a dark shadowy corner. The footsteps stopped, and there was no sound. Moments later, they say two men walk in, carrying machetes. They made almost no noise, which was creepy. They also were communicating to each other with hand signals.  
  
They searched the bathroom for a good minute, nearly finding them twice. One of them then exited, and the other stayed for a moment... He then turned around, which like everyone else who makes that mistake, was the last thing he did aside from be slaughtered.  
  
Within seconds, Vince was upon him, and Hiro was forced to watch the horror, which would follow.  
  
Vince first swung the blade in a horizontal strike, and hit him in the lower back. The man began to wheeze, and blood seeped from his mouth as he fell to his knees. Vince grabbed the man by the hair, and the man reached up to try to break free... It was brief, and stopped only when Vince hit him in the side of the neck with the blade, killing him. But no, that wasn't enough. He swung it twice more, severing the head from the body.  
  
Hiro was stunned. He never saw such violence in his life. The body hit the floor, along with its former head. Blood formed a pool on the floor, and Vincent was once again laced in blood. He whipped it off, and reached down, picking up the other machete, and handed it to Hiro.  
  
Vince: "I know you're disgusted at me, but I don't care... Take this, 'cause we may have to do some more killings to get to the girl."  
  
Hiro: "..."  
  
Vince: "After this, you can fucking arrest me... I don't give a rat's ass, but right now let's focus on trying to survive, eh?"  
  
Back on the other side of town, Jon was high as a kite. He had killed three more people, and had stumbled across a hand axe. He was still in the Innocentz turf, but he didn't know that... All he knew was he was having the time of his life by taking just that, life, from others. By force. Slaughter, the sport of kings- he thanked his lucky stars he'd eaten his Wheaties this morning. Or was that a year ago? Oh hell, time didn't matter! All he knew was that he was going to be late for SOMETHING if he kept lollygagging about.  
  
He spotted another one of them, and simply pranced right up behind him. Emulating the stereotypical ballerina for his own comical amusement. During this, he was rather inhumanly silent. He simply tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned to face Jon, his face met the sharpened wedge being slammed into it. The two factions, the metal axe and the flesh-and-bone face, had a disagreement. One which the axe truly took the cake on, splitting skull asunder in light of the fact that titanium by-product is harder than calcium and marrow. The body fell down dead, and Jon stood there with more blood on him. He smiled, and had a brief giggle fit, but he recovered. He always loved to giggle, put him more in touch with his feminine side. This was also, coincidentally, the part of his persona he used as an excuse to justify the masochistic pleasure he often put himself through.  
  
It occurred to the young man only then that his hormones were raging, and needed rapid appeasement. Suddenly finding himself wishing he had fought those bastards off... He could have easily killed them, and then had Karen all for himself. Ah, beautiful Karen... Even in death she was beautiful... Hell, more so than in life! The lacerations and the beads of sweat rolling off her pale forehead, all so alive considering she wasn't! He could take in every detail for hours, if only for the sake of being near her! Ah yes, simply stroking her lifeless form gently- the wonders! She could not resist, she loved him- didn't she? Of course! And who didn't? Aside from those who hated Jon, but of course. Oh, to curve the pale lips into a smile, see her happy! That's all he really wanted to do, right? Right! Please the woman, make her feel GOOD! But he didn't- they did. And this, this was criminal.  
  
But quite alright, they paid for their debauchery of an angel accordingly.  
  
Damn it all! That is what he should have done! It didn't matter if she was dead or not (despite when they are alive it was more fun), he could have fucked her anyway... He couldn't now, only due to he didn't know where the fuck he was... That sucked, but he had been in worse situations... But this emotional instability, it got old at times. He was purely conscious of wanting to rape Karen one moment and hug her gently from behind the next, very aware of his own mind. He could see where it was going, but never stop it. No matter, came in handy sometimes, the urges for violence.  
  
He reached down, and picked up some spare clips from the shit-for-brained cocksucker who he just wasted, and slid them in his other empty pocket. Wonderful. A hand axe, switchblade, a pistol, and ammo to boot. The pistol was the .38 his lady-love acquired earlier, he assumed. Not the best gun in the world, but it would do until he found something better... Not exactly an aficionado of firearms, but certainly familiar with them, the boy found himself wishing for anything better. A SIG-Sauer P220, his personal preference for the sleek aluminum frame, was the top thing on his mind.  
  
Ah! And what's this? A sign, a sign of properties divine! Property divine more likely, the Carcer City Zoo to be specific. Is that where they kept folks like himself? Because he sure got called an animal frequently enough, it seemed to make sense. No matter, the establishment of fuzzy things to behold and crucify was but a mile from his present location. He'd always wanted to crucify a chimpanzee, if not for anything more than a good insult to Christianity. That, and crucifying anything at all seemed like great fun.  
  
By now, Vince had killed four more of those fuckers, and the duo now had acquired themselves a Glock. Hiro decided to use this instead of the machete... He felt like a butcher carrying the damn blade.  
  
Vince, on the other hand, was quite content with the blade... It was more silent than any pistol... And it made one helluva mess...  
  
NO! He wasn't insane. He never will be insane, and that is final! This is just a phase... Yeah, that's it. A phase. His surroundings were doing this to him, and it wasn't himself... Somehow he doubted that, but it couldn't be helped.  
  
They slowly crept deeper, and deeper yet into the zoo. After some twenty minutes, they saw her.  
  
She was wearing a white blouse, which was stained with blood. She had a black eye, and blue jeans. Her hair was brown, and down to her upper back. Very beautiful. She didn't notice them, which was quite good...  
  
After doing a quick peek in, it seemed there was only one man in there. He held a .38, and was walking around with nonchalance to be scorned.  
  
War Dog #1: "Damn, you're fine... I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I had a wee bit of fun..."  
  
He felt her leg, and then moved it up to her breast, and squeezed gently. She moaned through the duct tape across her mouth in distaste, and gave him a dirty look.  
  
War Dog #1: "Aren't you kinky..."  
  
Vince quickly ran up behind him, and hit him in the side of the face with the blade. Instant death on impact.  
  
Vince: "And aren't you dead."  
  
The girl looked at them in fear.  
  
Hiro: "Its alright." He said this calmly, and soothingly. Just like he was trained to. He could see she was scared, and he didn't want to feed her fear. "We're here to rescue you."  
  
Vince walked behind her, and effortlessly diced the ropes. They, of course, held her to the pole she was tied to. She grabbed the tape without hesitation, and tore it off...She looked frightened, and moreover looked like hell. Her hair was a mess, and Vince noticed that there was a rip at the knee of her jeans.  
  
Girl: "Wh-...Who are you?"  
  
Vince: "It doesn't matter who we are right now... What matters is getting you the fuck out of here before the dick police notice what we've been doing."  
  
(Next- Great Escape) 


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Great Escape  
  
(11:45pm)  
  
Starkweather sat about his monitoring equipment, as always. He was very, VERY pleased. Cash had been doing so wonderful. He had dispatched all of the hoods in the area they placed him at, and he was now moving towards the area of the Skinz. Very, very good.  
  
He flipped a switch on the control panel, and the camera darted to view the death of the guard keeping an eye on Miss Heather Lockley... She wasn't very good at her job, and that was why she is in the position that she is in. Perfectly logical. Hiro was talking to her, it seemed. He didn't have the sound up, but it was recording. McNeil then cut her ropes, and by this point she had naturally drawn her attention to them.  
  
Hmm... Looks like they would win this game easily after all... Too easily, in his professional opinion.  
  
Well... Not if he had anything to do with it... But what could he do?  
  
AHA! He came up with a brilliant plan. He did have one of his precious Cerberi stationed near the facility they were in, with tranquilizer rifle. Yes... And then release the ones the War Dogs didn't even know of...  
  
It was a small group, but FAR more effective than any of the other gangs he hired to patrol Carcer... No... This group was perhaps on par with the Carcer SWAT, and was perhaps on par in terms of sanity with the Smilys... No.. .Maybe the Innocentz...  
  
He picked up a phone, and pressed a button. After the first ring, the person on the other end picked up.  
  
Cerberus Sniper: "Yes, Mr. Starkweather?"  
  
Starkweather: "Fire."  
  
Cerberus Sniper: "Yes, sir."  
  
He watched on the screen as something hit Miss Lockley in the shoulder. She pulled it out, and then the drug took effect. She was soon stumbling around like a drunk, and Yamada and McNeil didn't know what hit them... He then flipped a switch, which released the Monkiez...  
  
She was hit with some kind of dart. She would die, but she might pass out any moment.  
  
Vince: "You alright?!"  
  
Heather: "Yeah... But... I'm not feeling so good..."  
  
Hiro: "Fucking hell! We're fucked!"  
  
Starkweather: "You are if you don't move your asses."  
  
Vince: "Starkweather! You prick!"  
  
Heather: "Starkweather?!" She seemed surprised. Very surprised. "Mr. Starkweather, what's going on?!"  
  
They hear a gunshot ring from outside, along with screaming... Screaming of men, and what appears to be animals.  
  
Hiro: "What the?!"  
  
Vince: "Wai-?! You know this fruit?!"  
  
Starkweather: "Yes...She was my old secretary. Don't feel bad about yourself Miss Lockley. Its just you haven't been that great with your job recently. So, consider this you being fired." He let out a girlish giggle.  
  
Heather: "NO! Please, no! Please!"  
  
Starkweather: "Hehe... Anyways, like I was saying- a special gang just escaped from captivity... They were too defiant, so we had them locked up... But now that they are loose, they will quite effectively kill everything in sight."  
  
They heard more gunfire, and of course more screaming.  
  
Hiro: "They didn't escape! You let them out! Didn't you?!"  
  
Starkweather: "Oh that's a low blow! How could you accuse me of such a thing? I would nev- hehehehehe" he started giggling madly, "hehe, alright. You got me. I did let them out."  
  
Vince: "Asshole!"  
  
Starkweather: "Anyways... From the looks of things, they will be there in about three minutes. So I suggest you get out of there. Ta ta!"  
  
Vince: "STARKWEATHER!"  
  
No response. He hung them out to dry again. When he looked back at Heather, she was on her knees, crying. Hiro had his hands on his head, walking around.  
  
Hiro: "Fuck, man! What the shit are we gonna do now?!"  
  
Vince walked over to Heather, and grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her up. He shacked her hard.  
  
Vince: "Get a fucking grip on yourself! You can cry in depression about how Starkweather fucked you over later! But right now we gotta get the fuck out of here before the shit hits the fan!"  
  
Heather: She sniffled, and wiped some tears from her eyes. "A- alright..."  
  
Vince reached down and grabbed the .38, and put it in an empty pocket.  
  
Vince: "Alright, now we go... NOW!"  
  
Vince picked Heather up, and carried her over his shoulder.  
  
Heather: "What the?! Put me the fuck down!"  
  
Vince: "No time. Hiro, run! NOW!"  
  
Hiro and Vince charge outside, and Hiro aims and fires ahead of them. It his someone in the head, and instantly drops to the ground. They hear loud monkey screams, and screams of bloodshed and death and other such less-than- pleasant makings of nightmares. It chilled Vince to the bone.  
  
Jon had, meanwhile, reached the Zoo in about ten minutes time while getting a nice jog. He heard screaming being as it was by this point difficult not to, and became instantly overjoyed that he was there. Goody goody panty- shots, just in time. The fellow's vision, adapted to the dark from his time in prison cell corners, spotted someone running. And so, somewhat on a whim, he ran up and clothes-lined the other. Simply made a mad dash for the hapless victim, a rather belligerent-looking black man, left arm outstretched and ready for business. The other, feeling as if his Adam's apple were suddenly inverted, found himself rather hastily being lifted up by the collar.  
  
Jon: "Well howdy there, stranger! Can y'all tell me what's all up in this hizzy?" A pause, and chuckling. "Hoo-wee! I'm totally like, jiving, mon amie."  
  
War Dog #2: "Man! Let me the fuck go! Some fucking freaks are running around, killing everything! They came out of fucking no where!"  
  
Jon: "No wait just a cotton picking minute." He let out a loud laugh. "Ahaha! Cotton picking... Heh... I crack me up, bigtime. Anyways, I don't take orders from Negro-types such as yourself. I'm still wondering how they let you out of the monkey house- probation, maybe?" He languidly drew the pistol from his pocket, and placed the barrel right on the War Dog's lower lip. "So lose the 'tude, lest I cap yo' fatass, black-ass lip. I've got the advantage here, buddy- I can't miss from a mile away with a target like that."  
  
It seemed the man just wet his pants, but Jon didn't care. That added to his excitement. He was afraid, and that's how the young man wanted it... Though now without question, he was going to have to go about killing this man, for making him look messy; and right before the party too! He had guests to see, and he looked like hell due to the fucking nigga piss! Really, it just made all the bloodstains look tacky now that it was there.  
  
War Dog #2: "Man! Please, don't kill me! We were just supposed to kill two mothas who were gonna-"  
  
Jon: "Wait...Back to the two mothers...Two people, you're supposed to hunt, right? Or were you just talking me up with your blackanese?"  
  
War Dog #2: "Yeah man!"  
  
Jon got even more excited... He could hunt those motherfuckers down... Or even better! Ka-booyah!  
  
Jon: "Alright,do continue, old boy..."  
  
War Dog #2: "Well, we were supposed to kill them when they tried to rescue this girl we got tied up in the main-" Fear apparent by now, as if it hadn't been for the previous portion of their cheery dialogue exchange.  
  
Jon: "Hold up again, G Funk Money- or whatever your 'homies' call you... A girl, you say?"  
  
War Dog #2: "Yeah man! A girl!"  
  
Jon: "Oh-ho-ho! What a grand night this is turning out to be indeed!"  
  
He felt a sudden rush between his legs. If she was hot, he knew what he must do.  
  
Jon: "Go on."  
  
War Dog #2: "And then some fuckers just came out of no where and attacked us man! They fucking attacked us! Killing us off left and right. SCREAMING like freaking monkeys!"  
  
Jon: "Sounds like a reg'lar jam-boh-ree! And since I'm in such a good mood, I'll give you ten seconds to get out of my sight. The surroundings are in your favor, what with it being night and all."  
  
Jon dropped the War Dog onto his ass, and he scrambled up.  
  
War Dog #2: "Yeah, thanks man!"  
  
Jon: "One..."  
  
He turned to run, but instantly felt pain in his left kneecap. Oddly enough, right after he heard the familiar sound of cracking gunpowder. The round had, naturally, spiraled out of the weapon's barrel at some nine- hundred feet per second, and found home in the man's leg. It soon decided, however, that this property was unfit, anf therefore tumbled about while taking the liberty to shatter the bone more or less completely, and emerge from the other side in a shredded exit wound. The War Dog fell to the ground in pain, and was screaming various obscenities. Clutching his new injury with both hands, rolling about like a baby on fire.  
  
Jon: "You see, I failed school, mon amie... So I only know two numbers... One and Ten...So that means: 'Ten'. And do disregard the fact that I used the word 'two' there, m'kay good buddy?"  
  
He drew his switchblade, and walked slowly over to the helpless man.  
  
Meanwhile, Vince and Hiro were mere feet from the gate. They were gonna make it. They didn't run into any one, which was very good indeed-  
  
But something just jumped in front of them. It was a man, in a monkey suit. He was screaming like a monkey, and had a billy club with several nails in it. Like some child's toy gone horribly awry, really. Hiro raised his gun, and fired a shot into its face. Lucky thing they had pistols, eh?  
  
They sprinted for the gate, and it buzzed open. This followed by running into the passageway, and shutting the hell out of that gate. There was another buzz, and a miniscule -click- let them know it was locked... Just in time, in fact. For four more of those monkey-like fellows reached the gate, just as they shut it. They breathed a bit easier, letting the adrenaline die down, and slowly went down the path...  
  
(Next- Reunion) 


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Reunion  
  
(November 26th, 12:07am)  
  
Jon crept through the zoo at a wonderfully brisk pace. Any thing he saw... WHAM! Headshot. Normally, he would have taken his time with these things...Dispatched them real slow-like. Sadly though, he had other plans. He would simply find the other three (Assuming of course, that they hadn't become pavement meat yet), and act as if he was just some guy caught up in all this... Which, by all technicalities he was, but those in his position probably weren't supposed to enjoy said position. He enjoyed lots of positions, tee-hee. Another thought clunking about his sewer-like mind. It occurred to him how ironic it was that somebody convicted of sexual assault such as himself, a rapist if you will, preferred woman-on-top positions over anything. Well, no matter, back to his plotting. The idea was that when the trio least suspected it, he would go about slaying the two men, and then he could merrily proceed to have his way with the female.  
  
It would be a fun, fun night. Yessiree. So far it was good, but he was hoping for even more good times. The sort of times one could make bar sing- a-longs about. At this point, the thrilling beat of frenzied screaming brushed by his ears. Resisting the urge to throw down and boogie, he perked up and paid attention to detail. Animal screaming it turned out to be, and lo and behold; upon rounding the next corner he saw several of those monkey- things bashing against a steadfast, and most certainly closed, sort of gate. He lifted his gun elegantly, and fired off four happy rounds, amounting into four equally pleasing, cranium-splitting headshots.  
  
They slumped onto the floor, and he leisurely approached the fresh corpses. Brain and bone were indeed everywhere, but truly he cared not. He simply gazed upon at the gate, and soon to greet his ears was a pleasant buzzing sound. He touched the gate, grasped a bar, and pulled gently. It opened. Well how about that, seemed it would only open when it wanted to, and it seemed to dislike apes. This gate found itself on his personal badass list. For if a gate is as racist as he is, then it's truly a homy. Well, come to think of it, technically nothing he did was racist considering he hated everybody equally.  
  
But of course, it could just be that someone decided to open it for him, but he didn't want to think that. Certainly not, it was just more fun the other way. Gave that gate some personality.  
  
He began to walk down the path, and then rather abruptly halted. The fellow waited, and listened to what could possibly be something useful. There was just the slightest HINT of noise coming from ahead... Fuckin' beautiful... They might have came this way. He started jogging, but then realized it would look rather awkward.  
  
Seconds later, he came up with a plan. He messed up his hair a bit with the aid of bloodied hands, and drew his switchblade in order to jam the thing into his left calf. Lordy lord almighty, it hurt so good! He found himself resisting the urge to chuckle, as the man had always found humor in all pain, including his own- would be hypocritical any other way, no? He then went on to slash his face but once, and ripped his up shirt a wee bit. He then ran to the best of his ability, which was significantly less than it was previously now that there was metal within his musculature.  
  
Vincent was the first to hear it. He turned around.  
  
Hiro: "Yeah, I definitely think we should ice that motherfu-"  
  
Vince: "Shh! I thought I heard something!"  
  
They stopped talking, and listened closely. It sounded like something was coming towards them. Fast. The Monkiez...That was the only explanation...  
  
Vince drew his .38, while Hiro prepared the Glock. They aimed down the passageway, and were ready for anything...  
  
Except for a man who looked like hell. They lowered their guns as the man drew nearer.  
  
Jon: "Oh! Thank fucking god! Thank you Jesus!"  
  
He ran up to them, and then doubled over. He was breathing heavily, and sounded like he was out of breath. Sweat dripped from his face onto the ground, along with a bit of blood. He was approximately 5'9", and had a wiry-but-muscular sort of build to him. He had rather short, light red hair, and had baggy black clothing which was stained with sticky crimson patches, and ripped in a few places. He stood upright, and smiled in relief.  
  
Jon: "Thank god! I thought I was a goner for sure! What the hell were those things?! They acted like fuckin' animals!"  
  
Hiro: "Clam down man. You're all right now. Nothing is gonna get you here."  
  
Vince: "Yeah. You're safe now... Unless those things are running right behind you. Are they?"  
  
Jon: "Huh? No. Not that I know of." He panted. Secretly telling himself not to bust up and start laughing at the entire charade; but a true actor never does that, and so neither shall he. A firm resolution.  
  
Heather: "Well, it's good you're safe..."  
  
Jon looked at Heather for the first time, and was truly awestruck. He didn't display this shock, however. But man... A VERY fine fucking piece of meat. He couldn't wait to get his dick in that. Or his knife. Whichever came first, the order didn't matter.  
  
Jon: "Aye. That it is, lass. That it is."  
  
Vince: "So who are you?"  
  
Jon: "My name is Jim Gray, but everyone calls me Gray, and I'd prefer it if you guys did too."  
  
Heather: "Nice to meet you. I'm Heather Lockley."  
  
Hiro: "I'm Hiro Yamada."  
  
Vince: "And I'm Vincent McNeil."  
  
Jon: "So does anyone know what the fuck is going on here? One moment I'm coming home from work, and the next minute I'm here. I don't remember how I got here, and all I know is that a bunch of people are trying rather effectively to kill me."  
  
Hiro: "Well, you are right now in the very fucked-up, nightmarish Carcer City... The one who put you, and the rest of us here is a sick bastard named Lionel Starkweather, who gets his kicks on watching people die."  
  
Jon: "Oh that's fucking great, man!" Feigned frustration, not as if they knew that.  
  
Vince: "How the hell do you know so much about this guy?"  
  
Hiro: "Well, about a year ago we suspected Starkweather of having some type of snuff films due to his movies. They were critically acclaimed, and ranked in big at the box office, but something didn't stick right... The deaths in them seemed to damn creative. So vile, and disgusting." He stated this calmly, yet it was clear that as he was telling this story, that he was disgusted. He hated Starkweather down to his core. "We've been working for a long while on finding people who own snuff films, and arresting them. Due to that, we end up seeing a lot of snuff films. And it seemed that despite he wasn't using real people dying, a lot of the deaths seemed like they were based off of these films. So, we did some research by looking at the things, which were in evidence, and sure enough: A lot of the deaths in his movies were scene for scene remakes of snuff films. So, we got a warrant and had an undercover agent sneak into his estate. After about a month or two, she found some films and we were able to get him for possession. However, he got off and didn't do anytime. But we did ruin his career. This would have been good enough, but we wanted to nail the bastard good."  
  
Heather: "God..."  
  
Jon: "He should have got the maximum sentence."  
  
He looked as if he cared, but he really didn't. As long as he was able to meet this prick and kill him, that is all that mattered. Sad to see somebody with such organizational skills go to waste, but. Eh.  
  
Vince: "So that's where you came in?"  
  
Hiro: "Yeah. I went in undercover to try to get some more evidence and nail him again for possession."  
  
Starkweather's voice seemed to come in as if he was next to them, but that of course was due to the beauty of the ear buds.  
  
Starkweather: "And soon after I found out who the fuck you were, and drugged you and brought you to my own little Hollywood to make you a movie star."  
  
Hiro: "Fuck you! Your gonna go down for this you fucking asshole!"  
  
Vince: "I swear I want to kill this fuck more and more."  
  
Jon now realized who the voice was... Earlier, someone was giving him orders to kill people. He really didn't need them, and thought he was just becoming one of those stereotypical crazies who get voices in their noggins. But now it made some sense.  
  
Heather: "How could you?! Why?!"  
  
Starkweather: "Because its oh-so-much fun!" He giggles with joy at this.  
  
Hiro: "Motherfucker..."  
  
Starkweather: "Anyways, I want you all to keep heading down the path, and continue north."  
  
Vince: "Why the hell should we? Huh?!"  
  
Starkweather: "Well, I just thought you'd like to know that some Monkiez are heading towards the gate, and the door is broken and wont shut. They will be in this tunnel within the next three minutes, and if you don't go now, will be upon you five minutes after that. Now, to prevent them from spreading, I'm going to seal off the exit in seven minutes, so if you aren't out of this tunnel in seven minutes or less, you will die."  
  
Heather: "NO!"  
  
Vince: "GODDAMNIT!"  
  
Hiro: "Sonova bitch!"  
  
Oh, how fucking peachy, Jon thought. What a work out... He was suddenly regretting that self-shanking he performed on his leg. But on the bright side... Miss Lockley's comely breasts bouncing as she runs for her life. The two factors broke even nicely.  
  
Starkweather: "Well... Toodles!"  
  
Vince: "WAIT!"  
  
Again, he was gone.  
  
Starkweather: "You really think you fooled them, didn't you Jon?"  
  
Jon didn't say anything. It seemed the others didn't know he could hear Starkweather. They began to run, and so he followed. Conveniently catching up to Lockley's side, as to get a better view.  
  
Starkweather: "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me... As long as you kill some things, and promise to kill Hiro and Vince when I say so... Understood?"  
  
Jon nodded as he ran.  
  
Starkweather: "Beautiful... And I assume you would like to have your way with Miss Lockley?"  
  
Jon nodded again.  
  
Starkweather: "Consider it done."  
  
The voice was gone, and Jon smiled... Even though Starkweather was an ass for putting him here, he did have some good traits. He respected the art of killing and raping and such, and that instantly gave him a slight edge on all the other asses he knew. He still had full intent on killing him when the chance presented himself, but he would feel a bit guilty for killing such an avid fan of death... Well, no, not really. The irony would make it all oh-so-worthwhile.  
  
(Next- Bombs Away) 


	10. Chapter Nine

AhChapter Nine: Bombs Away  
  
(12:18am)  
  
Sweat slowly dripped down the side of Miss Lockley's face, and she began to breath heavily. She was not sure at how much time they had left before the gate ahead of them shut and locked, but she didn't even want to think about it.  
  
Hiro: "Damn! How much further!"  
  
And with some ironic luck, as they rounded the next bend, they saw the gate. All four of them used the last of their energy and bolted for the gate. As soon as Gray got through the door, it slammed shut. Vince collapsed to the floor, and began to pant heavily. Hiro stumbled over to a near by dumpster and unleashed the contents of his stomach. Heather wiped the sweat off her face, and was sure she would faint.  
  
Gray stood there, doubled over, breathing harshly. He seemed like a nice man, but of course; Starkweather seemed like a nice man...And really, could she trust either of these guys? Jesus...She couldn't even imagine if all three of them were convicted rapists...  
  
Before she could give this much more thought, she heard Gray speak.  
  
Jon: "Where the fuck are those damn Monkiez?"  
  
Hiro looked away from the dumpster towards Gray, and had a bit of vomit on his chin which he brushed away. Vince looked up from the floor.  
  
Vince: "Yeah...They should be on us by now..."  
  
Starkweather: "Yeah, they would have been on you if they actually were chasing you. But since they weren't, I guess you four can relax for a couple of moments before the next scene."  
  
Hiro: "Wait...There were no Monkiez running after us?"  
  
Starkweather: "Ahaha...No, there weren't any Monkiez running after you...I just felt that you all should get a move on things...I don't want fourteen minutes of footage involving three guys and one girl walking through a dark tunnel...Sure, I could edit it out, but the sight of fear is so wonderful."  
  
Vince: "You bas-" He stops abruptly in mid-sentence, and begins to wheeze and cough sporadically. When he appears to have recovered, he continues accordingly. "You bastard! You fuckin' cocksmith!"  
  
Starkweather: "Ahaha! Cocksmith, that's a new one...Sounds like a good word to use from now on. Ahaha."  
  
Hiro: "Screw you..."  
  
Starkweather: "Anyways, consider this your...Break. Haha... Anyways, I'll contact you within the next half hour on what the next scene is. Until then, have fun wandering around...However, I do suggest you keep out of sight...You're in the Hoods' territory now. They aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they are dangerous..."  
  
Vince: "Hoods again, eh?"  
  
Hiro: "You know them?"  
  
Vince: "This is where I started out..."  
  
Hiro: "So anything we should know about them?"  
  
Vince: "Just that they are stupid to high hell..."  
  
Hiro reaches down, and promptly helps Vince up. Vince proceeds to wipe some dirt off his pants, and looks around...  
  
Vince: "Alright...So what do we have in terms of weapons?"  
  
Hiro: "Well...We have your .38, my nine, and this machete..."  
  
Vince: "Ok..." Vince begins to root through his pockets. "It seems I got myself five bullets left for this thing. How much do you have, Hiro?"  
  
Hiro: "Uh, one full clip, and one half clip."  
  
Jon: "Oh boy..."  
  
Heather: "Damnit..."  
  
Vince: "Yeah...And unless things changed, the hoods don't have any guns."  
  
Hiro: "Damnit...What do they have?"  
  
Vince: "From what I saw, black jacks, wooden baseball bats, and crowbars..."  
  
Jon: "Shit..."  
  
Vince hands Hiro the machete, and Jon the .38.  
  
Hiro: "What?"  
  
Vince: "Hand Miss Lockley the .45...You get the machete, and I'll get the next weapon we find...And after that, the next weapon goes to Gray due to he has five shots left."  
  
Hiro: "Uh, sure...Ok..."  
  
Hiro hands Heather the gun.  
  
Vince: "Do you know how to use that?"  
  
Heater is looking down at the gun in her hand, sniffling...  
  
Vince: "Hey!"  
  
She looks upwards, and wipes a tear from her eye.  
  
Heather: "Whu-?"  
  
Vince: "Get a fuckin' hold of yourself, okay. This whole thing is fucked up, and I need you to stop crying so we can get out of this mess."  
  
McRinehart meanwhile, had a few idle contemplations. This Vince fellow wasn't all bad- surely not considered to be quite as "demented" as he was, but still. Psh, "demented"- people just had no understanding for art anymore. You splatter paint all over a surface and it sells for millions, you do the same thing without paint and folks get edgy and call the cops. Speaking of whom, there was that Hiro fellow- Jon had an instant disdain for this man, as he was working with the same breed that put him away. And then, ladies and gents, we had here Ms. Lockley. Ms. Lockley was, for lack of better words, a sack of meat with a few prominent holes that he wishes to have fun with. As well a few that had yet to exist, but he wished to make.  
  
Heather: "Alright..."  
  
Vince: "Now, have you ever used a gun before?"  
  
Heather: "Uh, yeah...I've used one before..."  
  
Vince: "Good...Very good...Alright...Right now, we find a place to lay low until that fruit contacts us..."  
  
All four of them walk into an abandoned building to their right. Jon looks at the floor, and sees several large rats running around. Again, idle thoughts are whizzing through the young man's head- ones such as "God fucking damn it, they're begging to be slaughtered." And general impatience regarding the fact that, for now, he could not kill anything without arousing suspicion. Then again, killing aroused more than suspicion- atleast for him.  
  
After 15 minutes of silence, the radio crackles...  
  
Starkweather: "Alright boys and girls, it's Showtime!"  
  
Vince: "What do you want, Starkweather?"  
  
Starkweather: "Well... I was considering of making a little "Action" movie for snuff, so here's the deal: There is a briefcase on the 3rd floor of this building... In that briefcase, there is a bomb. Now, I want one of you to grab that case, and take it to where I tell you to... Once it is there, the bomb will be deactivated."  
  
Hiro: "You're shitting me..."  
  
Jon: "A-...A bomb?"  
  
What the fuck was this guy thinking?! A fuckin' bomb! How childish...  
  
Heather: "Oh god..."  
  
Vince: "What would the rest of us do?"  
  
Starkweather: "Well, the another one of you will go and deal with a little problem...A group of Hoods has started a small turf war with a group of pricks known as The Skinz."  
  
Hiro: "Shit...Those 'White Power' bastards you had me dealing with earlier?"  
  
Starkweather: "That is correct, sir! Anyways, I want you to get there and kill every last one of those fucks...Hmm...Now lets see...I think Vince is capable of handling the bomb...And Jim can deal with the turf war."  
  
Jon: "Huh? What the hell?!" And although it came out as if he were outraged about the situation as a whole, in truth he merely wished to have all the slaughter to himself.  
  
Vince: "...Fine..."  
  
Hiro: "You're a bastard..."  
  
Starkweather: "Ahaha...Yeah, I get that a lot. Anyways, Vincent...I suggest you hurry, for time is running out."  
  
And then there was silence.  
  
Vince looked around quickly, and gave them a nod.  
  
Vince: "You guys better survive..."  
  
Vince runs towards the stairs, when he hears Heather call out to him.  
  
Heather: "Vince!"  
  
He turns around, and Heather runs up to him and hands him the gun and the extra clip  
  
Heather: "Take care..."  
  
Vince: "Heh...I will..."  
  
(12:45 am)  
  
Good...He was finally away from those bastards...Now he could do some good ol' fashioned killing...  
  
Starkweather: "Jon, that was a wonderful act you pulled."  
  
Jon: "I'm used to acting- mainly on trial. There isn't even a turf war, is there?" Inquisitive nature at work.  
  
Starkweather: "Actually, there is. It all depended on what you decided to do...If Hiro went, and you stayed behind to have fun with Lockley, Hiro would be dealing with a big brawl right about now...But since you decided to take the job, I made it so you wont have to do that."  
  
Jon: "How?"  
  
Starkweather: "I like you Jon, I really do. You have the same interest as me, which is murder. And for that, I need you help."  
  
Jon: "...I'm listening..." And damned if he wasn't.  
  
Starkweather: "There is another one of you running around Carcer City...I want you to find him, and kill him when I say so."  
  
Jon: "Why?"  
  
Starkweather: "Well, he is a psychopath, which is well and good...But I'm afraid he and I aren't on the best of terms, and like Vince and Hiro, he will indeed kill me if ever we met. So, I want you to deal with him when the time comes..."  
  
Jon: "Alright...But how do you plan on dealing with Hiro and Vince?"  
  
Starkweather: "Oh, don't worry about that...A good friend of mine is going to deal with those two, and will set it up for you to rape Heather."  
  
Jon: "Beautiful."  
  
Starkweather: "Quite...Till then, entertain me...Kill as many of these fuckin' bastards as possible."  
  
Jon: "You don't have to tell me."  
  
So far it had been 3 minutes since he started this, and he had to waste 3 hoods along the way. He only hopped he wouldn't run into a lot of them...Would slow him down, and he really didn't want to be next to this fuckin' bomb when the timer ran dry.  
  
Vince: "Shit!"  
  
He ran at a very brisk pace. It would all be over soon. Apparently he was nearing the building where the bomb could be disarmed. Shit this sucks...  
  
Hood: "HEY FUCKER!"  
  
Out of nowhere, the bastard came up. He had a crowbar, and was soon greeted by a bullet right in his face. He fell over on his back as quickly as he jumped out, and had a short spasm. Vince ignored it, and just ran like hell. Shit...When would it blow? Fuck!  
  
And there it was, the building. He ran to the door, and kicked it open.  
  
It was a large locker room. A plain, large locker room...HOW THE FUCK COULD THIS PLACE DISARM A FUCKIN' BOMB!  
  
But it was damp also...And smelled...Utterly reeked of gasoline...  
  
Starkweather: "Oh good, you're here...Early in fact, I wasn't expecting you to make it here this quickly. Anyways, locker 101. Open it. In there you'll find a key and a disk. Use the key to open the briefcase, and stick the disk in the bomb."  
  
Vince, without question, ran to locker 101. He tried to open it.  
  
Starkweather: "Oh yeah, I almost forgot...The combo is 22-46-42"  
  
Vince flipped the knob, and opened the door. Inside was exactly what Starkweather had said. He opened the case.  
  
Inside was the bomb...It was C4; with what appeared to be a zip drive connected to the bomb. He looked at the timer, and it read 6:00, and was counting down. He grabbed the disk, and shoved it in...  
  
And the timer jumped down to 10 seconds.  
  
Vince: "Shit!"  
  
With 7 seconds and counting remaining, he bolted for the exit.  
  
It was the longest 7 seconds of his life. He was sure he would be 1 second too late, and feel the fire and shrapnel on his back. But he ran outside right when it exploded. It was a small explosion, which engulfed the room he was in on fire. He looked into the room, and stood there...  
  
Starkweather: "Whoopsie! Guess I made a mistake! Ahahahahaha!"  
  
Vince: "FUCK YOU!"  
  
???: "Freeze, motherfucker!"  
  
Vince stopped...  
  
???: "Drop your fucking gun! Now!"  
  
He dropped the gun, and turned around.  
  
There stood the Cerberi. Five of them. Two of them had combat shotguns, two of them had M16s, and the leader had a Desert Eagle. The leader walked behind Vince, and pistol-whipped him in the back of the head...And there was blackness...  
  
(Next- Checkup) 


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Checkup  
  
(12:50 am)  
  
Hiro and Heather sat there quietly in the dark, damp room where Jim and Vince left them...Hopefully Starkweather didn't pull some shit on them, but Hiro was sure that he did...That rat bastard...  
  
Heather: "So...How long have you been a cop?"  
  
Hiro: "Huh? Oh. About ten years now."  
  
Heather: "Ah...I see...What made you want to be a cop?"  
  
Hiro: "A friend of mine...A good friend of mine was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he got fucked over by some assholes...So, I decided to become a cop so those assholes couldn't fuck anyone else over...But it seems this asshole fucked Jim, Vince, you, and I over in the ass..."  
  
Heather: "Yeah...I...I can't believe this...Why would he do this to me? I did nothing to him except for what he asked...I've only been on the job for about a month, but still...It's unfair..."  
  
Hiro: "Don't worry...We'll get you out of here, and bring this cocksmoker down for good."  
  
Heather: "You mean that?"  
  
Hiro: "I promise you...We have enough information to lock this bastard up for a long, long, long time..."  
  
Heather smiles weakly.  
  
Heather: "That's good..."  
  
Hiro: "Anyways...I think we shou-"  
  
Footsteps... Definitely footsteps.  
  
Hood 1: "Ah man...I really need a fuckin' bong hit right now...Just a little thing to warm me up..."  
  
Hiro gripped the handle of the machete...  
  
Starkweather: "Ice this chump, Yamada."  
  
Hiro: "Fuck you!" Hissed through a whisper.  
  
Starkweather: "If you don't cut his fuckin' head off, I'll send more of those fucks after you! Stop being a fuckin' pussy and get to the killing!"  
  
Hiro had no choice...If Starkweather really did send more over here, they would be fucked...Heather probably would be overwhelmed, and with who knows how many vs. him and his machete, the odds weren't good...  
  
So, Hiro crept slowly towards the door...Luckily, the shadows covered him well...  
  
Slowly, he heard him...  
  
Hood 1: "Damnit...Just one hit would do...Would keep me fuckin' warm...Anyways...I hope I get at least one kill tonight...Just one would do..."  
  
Starkweather: "Now!"  
  
Hiro swung the machete out, and it hit home. It hit the hood in the gut, and he fell to his knees, holding his stomach, wheezing.  
  
Starkweather: "TAKE HIS FUCKIN' HEAD OFF! NOW!"  
  
Hiro grabbed the hair on the man's head, and lifted his head up. He then brought the machete towards the front of his neck. The wheezing grew wet, and blood spilled from the gut, throat, and mouth. He brought it again to the throat, and the wheezing stopped...But he didn't...  
  
No, he brought it one final time towards the throat, and the head came clean off. He looked at the head...God...What did he do...What the fuck just happened?  
  
He dropped the head with disgust, and stumbled away...Blood dripped from his blade, and from his clothes.  
  
Starkweather: "Atta boy! You're a real natural...Ahaha..."  
  
He looked at Heather, who was wide eyed...She looked frightened...  
  
Hiro: "Starkweather...He tol-"  
  
Hood 2: "Hey! I thought I heard something!"  
  
Hood 3: "Same! HOODS! HOODS! We need backup! HOODS!"  
  
Hiro: "Fuck! Come on!"  
  
He grabbed Heather by the hand, and ran to the other end of the room. The door was locked with rope, and Hiro simply cut away at said rope. He kicked the door open, and Heather and he began to sprint as fast as they could...  
  
If this was under better circumstances, he definitely would have hit on Heather...She was a very, very beautiful woman...But now was not the time...Flirting could mean them getting killed...Worse for her though; she'd probably be raped. And, well...He would to if he happened to run across a gay gang member...Just the thought of it gave him the goosebumps.  
  
Jon on the other hand didn't have to deal with the Hoods anymore. No-siree- bob. Not at all. He was dealing with the "Innocentz", but he really didn't see anything "innocent" about a bunch of fuck ups and beaners running around with face paint on like it was fuckin' Mardi Gras. But, they had nice weapons.  
  
He acquired more ammunition for his .38, and stumbled across a sickle, just in time to...He happened to notice a rather dumb sort of humanoid fuck was taking a piss break about twenty feet ahead of him...  
  
And with the maddest of ninja skillz, that is to say a great deal of speed combined effectively with stealth, he ran up to the man without making a noise. The guy was muttering something in Spanish, and was smoking. Clearly oblivious to the rest of the world.  
  
Good way to die... Unless you died the way he was about to.  
  
He swung the sickle underneath the man, and stabbed it right into the man's crotch. He made a loud noise, which was kind of like a high-pithced groan. And then Jon ripped backwards, ripping from the crotch to the ass, and the man fell down dead. Blood splattered on his pants, and he was sure urine was on his shoes...  
  
He looked down at the urine and blood, and muttered a rather obscure Frank Zappa reference to himself. "Didja get any onya...?" This followed only by a pelvis thrust in the direction he was facing, and a brief chant of "Bam-a- lam!"  
  
He looked at the dumpster upon his victory jig being over and done with, and couldn't help but notice the firearm the fellow seemed to have been using in his life- which had ended seconds ago. A double-barreled shotgun, he reckoned- but the barrel seemed a wee bit short, unprofessionally so. Ah, verily, 'twas a sawn-off! And not only that, but this here treasure trove of a dumpster seemed to possess a pack of cigs as well. Lucky day!  
  
He grabbed the pack, and lit up one...Ah...Beautiful moment... Now the man didn't even really enjoy smoking per se, but cigarettes had their uses as instruments of pain. As well, he did so enjoy how it made his voice sound.  
  
He checked around, and found four more shells for the shotgun after some half-assed searching.  
  
Beautiful...  
  
He was now had slightly more of an edge...With time...He hoped to be prepared so if he had to face an Uzi wielding Jesus, he would be able to blast so many fuckin' rounds into his goddamned Jewish nose, it wouldn't even be funny...Ah who was he kidding, of course it would be funny!  
  
Starkweather sat in his office, watching the monitors...Though Hiro and Heather slipped by the group of Cerberi due to the fuckin' hoods, he still had McNeil...And he wondered what Dr. Livingston would do to Vince...  
  
But that was not the best...  
  
Mr. Cash was just ordered to rescue his four family members...Luckily, they were able to take care of the Monkey problem before Cash showed up...He wondered how this would turn out?  
  
It didn't matter though...For his family would be murdered by the Innocentz when they got out of the zoo...And that is what he wanted...Cash to feel more rage, more hate...For the more rage and hate a man felt, the more "evil" he would be able to do...And in this case, evil involved brutally murdering unsuspecting guards...Though that rage could backfire, and end up getting Cash to attempt to kill him...  
  
But that wasn't his greatest fear...No, Cash could be dealt with easily...It was this McRinehart fellow...He was virtually a carbon copy of Starkweather, just more ballsy...  
  
He might end up introducing him to Piggsy when the time came, but hopefully it wouldn't be for a while...  
  
And then his cell phone rang. He answered it of course.  
  
Starkweather: "Starkweather, here..."  
  
Livingston: "Mr. Starkweather, this is Dr. Livingston..."  
  
Starkweather: "Ah! A pleasure to speak to you, Doctor."  
  
Livingston: "Yes, same to you...Anyways, Mr. McNeil has arrived, and I was wondering if you wanted to watch his "checkup" first hand."  
  
Starkweather: "No, I'm fine in my office. Thank you though...Incase something goes wrong, I want to be safe here in my office with the Cerberi protecting me."  
  
Livingston: "Yes, well that's the thing...I was wondering if you could send some of your Cerberi down here to keep an eye on things...I really don't trust this gang which you stationed me with..."  
  
Starkweather: "What? The Dystopian Snowmen? Of course you shouldn't trust them. They are sick, twisted fucks."  
  
Livingston: "So will you send some men?"  
  
Starkweather: "Yes...I will..."  
  
Livingston: "Thank you, Mr. Starkweather."  
  
Starkweather: "No, thank you."  
  
Starkweather hung up, and turned a knob on his control panel.  
  
Starkweather: "Hey, Mills!"  
  
Mills: "Yes, sir?"  
  
Starkweather: "Send two of your men to the hospital. Dr. Livingston is a bit paranoid about the Dystopian Snowmen, and would like some backup in case something happened."  
  
Mills: "Yes sir, right away sir."  
  
Mills disconnected...Ah, good John Mills...Very reliable...But there were more important things at hand.  
  
He turned the knob again.  
  
Starkweather: "Ramirez!"  
  
Ramirez: "Yes, sir?"  
  
Starkweather: "It seems Cash is done with the War Dogs, and is now heading towards the Mall with the Cerberi...Ready the Innocentz..."  
  
Ramirez: "Yes sir!"  
  
Yes...Soon cash would witness the death of his family, and his rage would fuel his own personal enjoyment...How beautiful...  
  
(Next- Coconut) 


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Coconut  
  
(???)  
  
There was blackness...But at the same time, there wasn't blackness...He didn't know what the hell was going on, but it didn't concern him. He felt good...Very good; And then he was filled with warmth...He saw Katie and Mom standing there, side by side- Smiling, they were proud. They were proud that he was related to them...And that made him proud. It filled him with unspeakable amounts of warmth, joy, and anything else that is warm and fuzzy...And then, in the depths of his brain, he heard something...Something odd...  
  
A man was singing, and another man was grunting in pain.  
  
And there seemed to be other sounds too... Sounds of something being cut, and pounding.  
  
Singing Man: -she called the doctor; woke him up and said: "Doctor! Ain't there nothin' I can take!" I said "Doctor! To relieve this belly ache!"-  
  
Grunting Man: Mmmpf! Mmmmmpf! Mmmmmmmpf!  
  
Singing Man: "-Now lemme get 'dis straight, you put de lime in de coconut, you drank de bowl up; you put de lime in de coconut..."  
  
Grunting Man: "Mmmpf! Mmmpf!"  
  
Singing Man: -you drank de bowl up. Put de lime in the coconut, you drank de bowl up. Put de lime in the coconut, you called de doctor; woke him up and said "Doctor! Aint there nothin' I can take! I said Doctor! To relieve this belly ache!"-  
  
Grunting Man: "Mmmpf!"  
  
Singing Man: I said "Doctor! Aint there nothin' I can take," I say "Dooooctor! To relieve this belly ache!" You put de lime in the coconut and drink 'em both together, put de lime in de coconut and then you feel better! Put de lime in dee coconut and drink 'em both up, put de lime in dee coconut and call me in the morning. Oooo ooo! Ooo oo oo oooo ooo!"  
  
Vince opened his eyes, and looked around the room. The first thing he saw was to his left, and it was a man dancing around...He had a claw hammer, and reached over and picked up a nail from the table to his left...He then brought it to a man strapped to a chair, who had about eight or so nails sticking out of his right arm. The man with the hammer then pounded another nail into the man's arm...The man in the chair had a face screaming with pain, and his muffled noises would seem to be the epitome of agony...  
  
The man had duct tape strapped over his mouth, and he had duct tape strapping his wrists to the arms of the chair. As well, he had duct tape around his chest and belly, strapping that to the chair...Also on his legs, strapping his legs to the legs of the chair...  
  
The man looked to be Hispanic, but it was hard to tell...  
  
He was covered in bruises, and there were 5 large gashes, dripping with a warm, sticky mix of blood and sweat. His mid-length black hair was matted, and messy.  
  
He looked at the table again, and found there was a box of nails, little pools of blood, a scalpel, and pliers...Near the pliers were three teeth: One incisor, and two molars upon closer inspection.  
  
The singing man was still singing Harry Nilsson's "Coconut...That is, until he noticed Vince was awake...  
  
Livingston: "Ah! Vinchenzo! My friend, it brings a song to my heart and some blood to my cock that you're awake! I am Dr. Chad Livingston, but you can just call me Herr Doktor...I'll be right with you, just let me finish up here."  
  
Livingston gave Vince a nice, warm, friendly smile, as if they were best mates...And then hit the tortured man in the front of the head with the claw portion of the claw hammer, the metallic tool immediately lodging itself into the skull with a truly unique 'thork' sound. The man died, probably instantly, and Livingston ripped the hammer from the man's skull. It was dripping with various examples of brain, bone, and blood.  
  
Livingston: "So... How are we doing today, Vincent?"  
  
It was then when he noticed that he was strapped down in a chair, the same way as the grunting man was...  
  
Vince: "I have a fuckin' headache."  
  
Livingston: "Oh-ho! That a fact? Well, what can you do with service these days... I told them to deliver you conscious, but nooooo! They had to knock you out... Fuckin' twats..."  
  
Vince: "Yeah...Tell me about it..."  
  
Livingston: "Ahaha... Rolling with the punches m'boy, I like that."  
  
Vince: "So why the fuck am I here, doctor? Oh, wait... Lemme guess...You're gonna do to me what you did to him?"  
  
Livingston: "Huh? Him?" A glance to the formerly-living fellow who looked like a twisted meld of carpentry and flesh, "Oh, no, no, no, no! Yours will be longer and more painful, m'boy. We have to make a good appearance, being that we only have this one chance to get it right."  
  
Vince wiggles his right leg, and notices the duct tape isn't on securely...Same goes for his left arm...But he waits...  
  
Vince: "Oh, really?"  
  
Livingston: "True as can be."  
  
Vince: "So...Tell me...What do you plan on doing to me?"  
  
Livingston: "Well... First I plan to take this," he raises his scalpel, "And I'm going to try an experiment of mine. No scientific value really, but I just love playing around with things- oh my, do believe I've gone off- track. Well, I'm going to introduce it to that flesh underneath your fingernails. You have to promise me you won't get mad here, but Mr. Scalpel here isn't the nicest he can be around new friends, so he may have a disagreement with your body and go berserk. After that, these here nails are going to have an orgy somewhere in your flesh, and from there on... Well son, I just plain don't know what I'll do."  
  
Vince: "Your pretty sure about this, aren't you?"  
  
Livingston: "Yeah. At first I wasn't, for you see I was sure the Dystopian Snowmen wou-"  
  
Vince: "The what?"  
  
Livingston: "Huh? Oh, the Dystopian Snowmen. They are the gang which controls this here area... Really sick and twisted fuck-ups, no taste for art like I have. But rest assured, I have two Cerberi posted outside, guarding me... Oh, and the Cerberi are Starkweather's personal bodyguards. Just so you know."  
  
Vince: "Ah. So... More Harry Nilsson?"  
  
Livingston: "Nope...We're gonna work-it work-it with Apache Indian's 'Boomshakalak'...Such a wonderful song. It makes me cheerful, I suppose."  
  
Vince: "I bet...Now, lets stop fuckin' around...Get to it..."  
  
Livingston: "Oh-ho-ho! You have balls and aren't afraid, are you? Alright then, son... No more fuckin' around..."  
  
Livingston walks over to the stereo system slowly, and presses a button. Moments later, 'Boomshakalak' is playing, and of course Livingston is singing along. He dances his way slowly towards Vincent.  
  
Livingston: "Wine your body, wriggle your belly, dip and go down in-ah the new style-ee."  
  
Right when he is inches from away, Vincent brings his right leg up fast, kicking Livingston right in the balls. Livingston doubles over, gasping. Vince breaks his left hand free from the chair, and grabs the scalpel. Contemplating what luck he had that for a self-proclaimed artist, the man couldn't work duct tape for shit. He then rams the surgical tool right into Livingston's head.  
  
Claret slowly seeps from Livingston's corpse as Vince cuts the tape off him.  
  
Starkweather: "Oooh! Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!"  
  
Vince: "You fucker!" He hissed harshly.  
  
Starkweather: "I'm hurt by those harsh words Vinny... I thought we were best friends! Haha."  
  
Vince: "Go to hell!"  
  
Starkweather: "In due time... But to get back on your good side, one of the Cerberi is coming towards the room you're in. If you hide quickly, you can get the jump on him."  
  
Vince, without question (Due to it's a 50-50 shot on weather Starkweather is lying or not), hides by the doorframe... And literally seconds later, a man walks in.  
  
He looks like one of the guys who keeps constantly subduing him and taking him off to a different area... Garbed in professional gear that seemed to have a ramshackle outlook to it, but regardless gave him en edge over the average gang.  
  
The man looks at the mess on the floor, gasps, and really has time to only do that.  
  
The blade sunk easily into his neck, and blood gushed from the open wound. The man fell to the floor, grasping his throat. That scalpel made short work of anything, it seemed.  
  
Vince reached down, and picked up the .44 he was carrying. He found eighteen extra bullets on the body, and a combat knife. Beautiful... Now to deal with that other prick... Hopefully he was carrying a better gun, but no matter what, anything would help.  
  
Vince opened the door, and saw that the other Cerberus was facing the opposite direction...He slowly crept up behind the man, and grabbed his shoulder.  
  
He spun the man around, and rammed the blade into his gut. Without even seeing if that did it, he placed the man in a headlock, and stabbed him deep into the chest three times. He released the man, and let the corpse fall to the floor in a pool of blood.  
  
Vince smiled at this; the fuckers got what they deserved. He looked himself over, and found he was utterly covered in their blood...  
  
Shit... What have I done? This bastard is turning me into a cold-blooded killing machine... Fuck! No! I'm not fuckin' psycho! I'm NOT fuckin' psycho! I'M NOT FUCKIN' PSYCHO!  
  
Oh yes you are, Vince... You're fuckin' psycho...You're as bad as Starkweather...You're even worse than him.  
  
No... No I'm not!  
  
Yes... Yes you are!  
  
FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! GO TO FUCKIN' HELL! LEAVE ME ALONE!  
  
How can I? I am you. You are me.  
  
Vince raised the .44 to the side of his head, and placed his index finger on the trigger...  
  
And with a blink of an eye, he stops... He lowered the gun slowly, and slipped it into his pocket...  
  
Vince: "What the fuck is wrong with me?"  
  
He shook his head in shame, and bent down. He found another combat knife, and another .44 as well. He grabbed the twelve rounds for it, and stepped outside into the chilly dark.  
  
(Next- High Spirits) 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: High Spirits  
  
(1:15am)  
  
Hiro didn't know where the hell they were, but he didn't like it all the same. It had been about 20 minutes since their last gang encounter with the Hoodz, though now they realized they were in a junkyard...And Hiro knew what this meant...  
  
It meant that they were in the territory of the Skinz; goddamned, motherfuckin' white supremacists...  
  
Fuck... Just his luck to run into these fucks again...  
  
They were hiding out in a trailer, and after some searching, Hiro came across a nail gun and a box which contained about fifty nails... Not the best gun, but definitely better than the machete...  
  
Heather: "Hiro...I'm scared..."  
  
Hiro: "I know...I am too..."  
  
Outside, he heard footsteps, and cringed with anticipation...He knew that one sound, the littlest thing, would send those bastards in here...  
  
Skin 1: "And so, I took that fuckin' mudblood out back..."  
  
Skin 2: "Yeah?"  
  
Skin 1: "And I made him kiss the fuckin' curb."  
  
Skin 2: "Aw man! I wish I saw that shit-skin nigger's head split open! Ooo- wee! That sure woulda been a purdy site."  
  
Skin 1: "I know! It was. And then that fuck's wife and daughter come outside, screaming their fuckin' heads off...So I smack em both a couple of times, and drag 'em inside."  
  
Skin 2: "You fuck 'em?"  
  
Skin 1: "Hell yeah! After that, I cut the elder bitch's arm off with a hacksaw, and cut up the l'il one's face a bit."  
  
Skin 2: "Ahahahahahahahaha! Beautiful! Those fuckin' niggers man! They need to fuckin' die! Y'hear that, Africa? Niggers DIE!"  
  
Skin 1: "Damn straight, man! Walkin' round like they own the fuckin' place! Man, America was built by WHITE people, not BLACK people! Those fuckin' fucks need to die!"  
  
Skin 2: "Fuck yeah man! WHITE POWER!"  
  
A third one walked up.  
  
Skin 3: "Will you two fuckstains shut the hell up! We're tryin' to hunt us some goddamned motherfuckin' impure bastards, and we got you two fuck-ups screamin' at the top of your fuckin' lungs!"  
  
Skin 1: "Sorry sir..."  
  
Skin 2: "Just showin' our love for the superior race...You know, white is right..."  
  
There was a pause, and then a sickening crack. Hiro knew what must have happened...The third guy must have hit the second guy over the head with a baseball bat or something...And it was confirmed...  
  
Skin 1: "SHIT MAN! What the fuck was that for! You don't hit a fuckin' puritan like him over the head with a bat! That's a fuckin' nigger's death! Niggers kill each other, man! You wanna be a nigger?"  
  
Another crack was heard, and then some thuds.  
  
Skin 3: "Don't you ever call me a fuckin' nigger, you fuckin' kike!"  
  
The thudding stopped after about a minute, and then Hiro heard a heavy sigh...And then the footsteps walkin' off...He looked at Heather, and saw she was shaking with fear.  
  
Hiro: "Shhh...Its alright...We'll get out of here...I promise..."  
  
Meanwhile, Jon had the fucker right where he wanted him... He was in the shopping mall, the same mall Miss Karen was defiled by scum in, and he had luckily grabbed a beaner who looked like he got the shit kicked out of him, and taped him to a chair. Glancing about the surroundings of the store they were currently in, a smile draped over his features while smoke from the half-spent cig partially masked his features.  
  
Jon: "So... Lemme ask again. Who did this to you?"  
  
Innocentz 1: "Man, fuck you ese!"  
  
Jon expanded his pleasant sort of smile, and took the cigarette out of his mouth.  
  
Jon: "No hablo espanol, frijole."  
  
Without further ado, the burning end of the cigarette was promptly but gingerly pressed against the captive man's left eyeball. Jon could almost hear the pupil coming to a boil, the tears cropping up sizzling as the guy made pitiful attempts to blink.  
  
Innocentz: "AAAHHHH! FUCK YOU! PUTO!"  
  
Jon: "Dammit son, I do believe I said no more beaner-talk for you. We're in America, speak distorted English!"  
  
He drew his switchblade, and jammed the blade immediately under the index finger of the man-in-interrogation. Before much reaction aside from yet more wailing could be garnered, he snapped the handle up, and in turn snapped the nail messily off. By this point the cig had fallen to the floor, extinguished, and all that remained in the other's eye was scarred cornea and ash.  
  
Innocentz: "Alright man! Fuck! Stop it! I'll fuckin' tell you what chu wanna know!"  
  
Jon expanded his previous smile into an outright half-grin.  
  
Jon: "No comprendo."  
  
Drawing back his right hand, which was occupied with the blade, and slamming it forth again just short of a punch to the man's face. A nasty gash, however, was inflicted and spanned all the way from the bridge of the nose to the earlobe..  
  
Innocentz: "COME ON MAN! STOP!"  
  
Jon: "Que?"  
  
Another vicious slash.  
  
Innocentz: "COME ON MAN! SHOW SOME FUCKIN' COMPASSION!"  
  
Jon: "Did you show our country compassion when you came here illegally, you border hopping gimp?"  
  
Innocentz: "I swear man! I fuckin' came here legally man! I have a fuckin' greencard and everything!"  
  
Jon: "Sure you do, Ricky. Sure you do."  
  
Innocentz: "Its not Ricky, man! Its fuckin' Carlos! Man, now you know my name! Please, let me go!"  
  
Jon: "No it's not, it's Ricky Ricardo... And I'm Lucy, who is outright tired of your bullshit."  
  
He slashed his face just one more time.  
  
Carlos: "PLEASE!"  
  
Jon: "Fine...Tell me then, hombre."  
  
He was gonna kill him anyway, and he really didn't give a shit weather this guy told him anything or not... He just wanted to make the guy shit himself, which apparently he did due to the smell. Ugh. Vile, smelled like ghetto.  
  
Carlos: "Man, some fuckin' gringo-"  
  
Jon: "Did it ever occur to you that I'm Caucasian-American, and I find you using the phrase 'gringo' very offensive?"  
  
He slashed Carlos' face again, the man's features now looking like it had the pattern for a chain-link fence hacked into it.  
  
Carlos: "SHIT MAN! Sorry! Please, don't cut me again!"  
  
Jon: "Accepted. Continue."  
  
Carlos: "This guy we were supposed to hunt down kicked the shit out of me and my crew, ya. He fucked em up real good. Most of 'em he killed execution- style. Snuck up on 'em all ninja like, but then we spotted him and it was three of us vs. him. He ran off, and took my two amigos out, and then beat me up with a fuckin' black jack. I swear."  
  
Jon: "Sounds believable. By the way, I don't care if you came here illegally or not- I hate this place as much as the next guy. I should be in Europe..."  
  
Jon walked off towards the CD rack, and looked through all that it had to offer.  
  
Carlos: "So... Chu gonna let me go or what?"  
  
Rifling through the CDs idly, he seemed to show disappointment.  
  
Jon: "Goddamn! Hm, they ain't got it. Best try for option two."  
  
A short while later, he procured the Dumb & Dumber soundtrack.  
  
Carlos: "Hey! Chu listening?"  
  
Jon ignored the Mexican, and walked over to an in-store stereo... It had power, and that would do quite nicely. Popping the disc in, he tapped a few buttons, and grinned from ear to ear. "Ah, sweet Boomshackalak. You're gonna love this, honky." Drawing his pistol in the unoccupied left hand, he flipped the safety off and began to sing along.  
  
Jon: "Wine your body, wriggle your belly, dip and go down in-ah the new style-ee, wine and go up," Jon pointed the gun into the air and fired off a shot, "Wine and go down," Followed by lowering the barrel to the captive's groin, and pulling the trigger.  
  
The man yelps, then screams in intense pain. His seat had become a pool of molasses-like dampness, which, in addition to his many injuries, was most unpleasant.  
  
Jon: "Lets see you raft to Florida now, biatch."  
  
Jon drew his blade, and began to work on the man's fingernails with it while softly humming along to the song and to the screaming.  
  
Meanwhile, Vince's situation failed to become either better or worse. No sign of any of those fucks Livingston was talking about, but it was best he got the fuck out of there quickly. He crept through the shadows, and heard Starkweather constantly mock him over the headset.  
  
Starkweather: "Getting tired yet? It looks like it...You also must be hungry. Too bad. Just too bad. Though you could appease your hunger with some killing. It will take you mind off things. Come on, it'll be fun..." A pause. "Oohh...That's no good."  
  
Vince: "What now?"  
  
Starkweather: "It appears that the Skinz are closing in on Hiro and Heather's location...I can't imagine what they would do to them."  
  
Vince: "You're shitting me?"  
  
Starkweather: "Ah, wish I was kiddo... I really do. But, I'm not."  
  
Vince: "Fuck, where are they?"  
  
Starkweather: "They are in the junkyard. Just keep going straight, and you can't miss it."  
  
Vince: "How long will it take me to get there?"  
  
Starkweather: "Let's see. If you run, it should take you ten to fifteen minutes... But I'm not sure if they can hold out that long armed only with a nail gun and a machete..."  
  
Vince: "Fuck."  
  
And so Vince ran. He didn't care if anyone spotted him. All that he cared about was getting to the junkyard before they found the others... Shit...  
  
Starkweather: "Hey, don't look so grim. Keep your spirits high, and all should be fine... Ahahahahahahahahahaha!"  
  
"I swear to god Starkweather," he thought, "I'll fuckin' kill you when this is over."  
  
(Next- Wollypop) 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Wollypop  
  
(1:30am)  
  
Heather imagined what it would be like if she didn't take that job...If she didn't become a secretary...Maybe she could have been a doctor...A lawyer, even...But no...She took the fuckin' easy way out, and now she was gonna pay for it...  
  
Well...At least there is hope...That Vincent guy seemed nice (Cute too), but he has been gone for a long time...He was probably dead...And this Hiro (Who she also thought was cute), he seemed hell-bent on protecting her from harm...That was nice of him...Though she didn't think he could stand up to a bunch of fat rednecks with bats, knives, and other unpleasantries...  
  
And then there was Gray...There was something off about him...Though she wasn't around him much, and he didn't do much. But that was it, wasn't it? He wasn't doing much...Sure, he could have been scared shitless, just like she was...In fact, they all were scared, but no. Something in his eyes said otherwise...  
  
But none of that mattered. She could think about it later. Right now, it was time to do what Hiro says, and hope for the best. Not like there was much else she could do.  
  
Hiro: "Alright. This place is compromised. We got fat bastards running around this entire location." He paused for a moment, and turned to look at her, "You up for trying to get the hell out of here?"  
  
Heather nodded. She just wanted to get home to her apartment, her family, and her cat.  
  
Heather: "Yeah. Lets get out of here."  
  
Hiro smiled warmly.  
  
Hiro: "Good. Alright...Here."  
  
He handed her the nail gun.  
  
Hiro: "Treat it like a normal gun. If it looks like they've spotted us, shoot first and ask questions later."  
  
Heather: "Got it."  
  
Hiro: "Alright. Lets get to it."  
  
Off at the shopping mall, which was in hellish condition after this night, Jon had his fun with the beaner for a bit before he finally put the screaming fly magnet out of his misery. After ripping all of his fingernails off, he then proceeded to shove small pieces of glass into where the nails were. Then it was time for some good ol' shiv-to-face action.  
  
After shooting the bastard in the skull, he proceeded to look around the mall of supplies... After five minuets or so, he found the bar he and Karen were in before he became caught up with the dickhead brigade. He walked in casually, actually somewhat hoping he was spotted.  
  
God...How beautiful. Dried bodily fluids covered the floor where she lay. Cuts were over her body, and her skin was pale due to loss of blood... The body cold no doubt, lukewarm if he was lucky. Perhaps the insides were still warm- and that would be all that mattered.  
  
Her leg was still deep inside her, but that could be taken out with ease...  
  
Jon: "Barbarians! They didn't even have the decency to let me have a go at her, and it was I who made it possible for this. Fuckin' ungrateful bastards."  
  
He smiled at how much fun he would have before he got to play with Heather. Oh sure, he'd seen what she looked like scared- and that turned him on, it did. But he wanted to amplify that expression, make it a raging torrent of absolute terror, make her feel the error of her ways. And he was sure that everyone had error. If there's one thing the Catholics had down, that was it.  
  
He stared at her, and began to think.  
  
The slut. She could have fought back... But no. She just curled herself into a ball, and prayed that it would be over soon. Stupid bitch had to have known it was all over, right?  
  
She could have stopped them. Hell, despite women being inferior to men in every possible way, two of them were beaners... Fuckin' beaners! It woulda been worse if one was a tar baby, but this was still pretty bad. Jesus, it would be just disgusting. Vile creatures they were. He refused to occupy a body that had been the center for their little fiesta.  
  
But that was another topic for another day...  
  
He still was pissed however, and needed to take his aggression out on someone.  
  
However, it appeared this fellow Starkweather had made an error in his timing- there genuinely didn't seem to be anybody left in the mall.  
  
Jon: "Looks like it's just you and me, former-slut."  
  
He walked over to the body, and began taking his rage out on it.  
  
They ran a bit, hid in a large shadow, than ran some more. They only ran into one of those damn freaks, but Heather took care of him with three nails. Two in the chest, one in the eyeball.  
  
So, it looked like they would be getting out of the junkyard area fairly shortly. Good. Very, very good.  
  
Hiro then felt a harsh, sharp pain on his face. Specifically his nose. He next found himself lying on his back, and then found that someone had picked him up...Two people to be exact.  
  
Hiro: "What the?!"  
  
Skin 3: "Ahahaha! We gots deez impure bastards!"  
  
Skin 4: "Ahaha! My pa's gonna be so proud of me!"  
  
Skin 5: "This is gonna be one story to definitely tell the rugrats at home!"  
  
Skin 6: "Hoo-wee!"  
  
Skin 3: "Alright! Calm yer asses down now!"  
  
One of the bastards had Heather by the shoulders.  
  
Heather: "LET ME GO!"  
  
Skin 4: "Do we kill them now?"  
  
Skin 3: "Nah... I want something first... I want something real bad."  
  
Oh god...They're gonna do it...  
  
Hiro: "Don't you dare! You fucking assholes!"  
  
Skin 3: "Shut up, Jap!" He socks Hiro right in the gut, and chuckles "Ya think you'd have learned when we kicked yer ass in WWII. Fuckin' bastard actin' like ya run da place. Well fuck you!" He socks Hiro in the gut again.  
  
Hiro was finding it hard to breath. Probably due to his nose was broken in addition to the fact that he just got winded twice in a row.  
  
The Skin turned to face Heather again, and he saw him drop his pants.  
  
Skin 4: "AHAHAHA! That's our Hoss!"  
  
Hoss: "Shut up! Now, girly... I want you to wick it..."  
  
Heather: "No!"  
  
Hoss: "Wick it wike a wollypop."  
  
He lets out a chuckle, and so do the others.  
  
Heather: "FUCK YOU!"  
  
Hoss: "Heh... Burthrum, get the impure slut on her knees."  
  
Burthrum, AKA Skin 5, pushes her down so she is on her knees.  
  
Hiro: "You fuckers! Leave her alone!"  
  
He tries to break free, but to no avail.  
  
Hoss: "Don't worry, it won't bite. It's real friendly, and as long as you're nice to him nothin' bad will happen. Though it might spit in your face and in your mouth, that's natural. Now, wick it wike a wollypop"  
  
Heather: "GO TO HELL!"  
  
Hoss: "Bah... And I thought you woulda learned... Burthrum!"  
  
Burthrum: "Got it!"  
  
Burthrum grabbed Heather's head, and slowly moved it towards Hoss's crotch.  
  
Before anything could happen, there was a loud crack, and red sprayed over Heather, Hoss, and a bit got on Hiro.  
  
Heather screamed, and pushed herself backwards, and she landed on her back. Another shot rang out, and Hoss went down, grabbing his crotch, screaming in pain. Two more cracks, and the two holding Hiro were deader than dead.  
  
Hiro looked to where the shots came from, and they saw Vincent walking out of the shadows, reloading a .44.  
  
Hoss: "OH GOD! YOU FUCKIN' INBRED BASTARDS!"  
  
It was a high-pitched scream.  
  
Vincent walked over to Hoss, and aimed his gun down.  
  
Hoss: "You..." still in a high pitched voice "Don't have it in ya, ya mongrel."  
  
Another crack, and there was no more groaning coming from Hoss, and there never would be.  
  
Heather got up, and ran to Vince. She hugged him, and he smiled.  
  
Vince: "Glad I made it before anything bad happened."  
  
Hiro: "I think Heather and I are even more glad at that."  
  
Vince: "Heh... Oh, here."  
  
Vince tossed Hiro his .44, and he drew another one from his pocket. He then walked up, and handed Hiro 12 extra bullets.  
  
Vince: "I figured you could use it."  
  
Hiro: "Thanks. So what's this now? One machete, two .44s, one nail gun, and..." He looks at the weapons on the floor "Two baseball bats, a knife, and a crowbar."  
  
Vince: "Yup... Heather, you can take the knife, and you want the .44? I can take the nail gun"  
  
Heather: "No, I'm fine"  
  
Hiro could tell she was in shock. She was almost forced to give oral sex, and who knows what woulda followed.  
  
Vince: "Alright..."  
  
Vince reached down and picked up a bat. It was metal, which could do a helluva a lot of damage if it hit the right spot. He handed it to Hiro, and then picked up the other metal bat.  
  
Vince: "Come on...Lets get out of here before we have to deal with more of these fucks..."  
  
(Next- Junkyard Dogs) 


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Junkyard Dogs  
  
(1:47am)  
  
Cletus wasn't very happy. No-siree-bob. He hadn't seen anythin' for quite sometime, and the last thing he killed was that fuck sometime earlier... Probably around seven or eight o' clock, and that was it. He heard screams, he saw a bastard earlier, but he wasn't able to catch up. The yellow-belly bastard was just to damn quick.  
  
It didn't matter though. Once this was over, he could go back home to his ma and pa. Those times were good.  
  
And he heard it... Sounded like a trash can being knocked over. He looked around, and it seemed he was the only Skin in the area.  
  
But just incase.  
  
Cletus: "Hey! Do one of you guys got my back?"  
  
He paused, waiting for a response. There was none.  
  
Cletus: "Shit..."  
  
He started walking towards where he though he heard the noise, but he wasn't quite sure it was there. He walked behind a pile of cars, stacked about eight feet high, and looked around.  
  
Cletus: "Nothin' but used rubbers and rat shit... Fuck."  
  
Bam!  
  
He turned around. Definitely it was a noise. He ran to the new location.  
  
Cletus: "You just gave yourself away you dirty dumbass half-breed monkey!"  
  
He ran; bat in hand to the location. He looked around... Nothing. He knew someone was here.  
  
Guess he'd have to taunt him out.  
  
Cletus: "I'ma gonna scalp you for my pa!"  
  
He continued to look around. Nothin. Not a goddamned thing.  
  
Cletus: "Your entire family must have come from under a rock if you're this good at hiding. Don't be upset though, it's in your blood, you impure son- of-a-bitch!"  
  
Still nothing.  
  
Cletus: "Gawd damned yellow-Ugh!"  
  
He felt cold metal across his neck. Something was chocking him. He grabbed at the bar, which was choking him, and tried to pull it off of him. He was losing air, and things began to get all fuzzy...  
  
He fell to his knees, not knowing what was going on.  
  
The only noise heard after that was a horrible gut-wrenching crunching noise as the metal baseball bat hit Cletus's face, cracking his head into pieces and sending his brain and skull fragments to be splattered all over the place.  
  
Vincent stood there, amazed at what he did... He still couldn't believe he was capable of this, and he was primarily glad Hiro and Heather didn't see him.  
  
He walked slowly back towards where he left them, and saw them standing there.  
  
Hiro: "Well?"  
  
Vince: "Yeah, I got him"  
  
Hiro: "You sure you got him, and he won't wake up soon and call his cheery buddies?"  
  
Vince: "Yeah. Positive..."  
  
Hiro: "Good... I may think this is sick and twisted, but these fuckers deserve everything they are getting and more."  
  
Heather: "Amen to that."  
  
Vince: "Yeah," but you're not the ones doing a lot of the killing...Especially in the sadistic way I am. "...but we should probably get going...Who knows what Starkweather will throw at us next...That sick fuck..."  
  
Starkweather: "You shouldn't talk about me behind my back, Vinny. That puts a damper on our relationship."  
  
Vince: "What now?"  
  
Starkweather: "I've grown tired of you folks hangin' around these idiotic rootin'-tootin' bastards and their 'white power' ways...So, here is what you need to do. There is a gate about two-hundred feet to your north. That's the exit. Have fun."  
  
Hiro: "Something bad is there. I know it."  
  
Vince: "Yeah."  
  
Heather: "But do we have any choice?"  
  
Hiro: "No...We don't."  
  
Vince: "Alright. Let's just go there, and hope for the best."  
  
They walked out of the shadows, and quickly, but quietly, made their way to where Starkweather said the gate was.  
  
Meanwhile, Jon had grown tired of mutilating Karen's body, and just left the mall all together. Not much else to do besides killing folks.  
  
And sure, it was fun stamping the life out of some worthless piece of shit, but they were no challenge...No challenge at all. 'Sides, he wanted new prey.  
  
Starkweather: "I saw what you did with Miss Graham...It was beautiful art, Jonathan. Beautiful."  
  
Jon: "Don't ever fucking call me that. I'll fucking rope you up with your optic nerves if you do it again."  
  
Starkweather: "Aha. Violence. I love it. Anyways, I thought you'd like to know that I sent the terrific trio towards a gate which leads towards the area you are now. I think you should go there."  
  
Jon: "Why the fucking fuck should I, honky-bitch?"  
  
Starkweather: "Well, I can see that you're bored to all hell, and I'm about to move them to the mental institution. A very sick and twisted gang lives there. They are the most amusing fuck-ups the world has ever seen."  
  
Jon: "And you want me to go there, get my beautiful weapons taken away, and then get dropped off at the institute with three people I really don't like...Well...Two people I really don't like. I can tolerate Heather, provided she's dying."  
  
Starkweather: "I know that, and you know that, but they don't know that. Besides, you would be able to hunt down new prey, and you'd be able to get Heather and have your way with her... If, that is, you are quick about it."  
  
Jon: "Explain."  
  
Starkweather: "I'm going to split all off you up, and put you at different locations of the institute. You might end up bumping into each other, and then staying as a team to survive the hell hole."  
  
Jon: "That doesn't answer my goddamn-"  
  
Starkweather: "That's cause I wasn't finished. Anyways- now, what if I told you Heather's exact location? Told you where she was going to be at all times...What would you say to that? Hmm?"  
  
Jon: "I dare say I'd be much obliged."  
  
Starkweather: "Good...Now, head for the gate. Just keep going down Main Street, and make a left on Sale Ave. You'll probably be at the gate in about a half hour."  
  
Jon: "But what if they get there before me and the Cerberi take them away?"  
  
Starkweather: "Oh, they might get there before you, but they certainly wouldn't be able to leave the junkyard until you arrive."  
  
Jon: "How so?"  
  
Starkweather: "Just get going. They are almost at the gate, though it will take them awhile to open it."  
  
Jon: "Fine."  
  
Jon was sure Starkweather had something planned for them. The most obvious one was that the gate was locked, and hopefully that was the case.  
  
They were getting pretty close to the gate from what Starkweather had said. He last contacted them about two minutes ago, and all had been quiet since.  
  
Heather was really quite tired, and hungry too. She would probably sleep for over twelve hours when she got home, and eat until she had a stomachache.  
  
And as they rounded the corner, they saw three Skinz. One had a bat, another had a nail gun, and another had a knife. The one with the bat and knife charged, and the one with the nail gun raised it, and fired.  
  
She heard Vince groan in pain, and saw Hiro shoot twice. She raised her nail gun, and shot about 5 nails at the one with the nail gun.  
  
She saw the man fall to the ground, and she ran over to Vince.  
  
Heather: "Vince! You alright?"  
  
Vince: "Arg! Yeah...Shit, I got a fuckin' nail in my shoulder."  
  
He clutched his left shoulder in pain.  
  
Hiro: "Fuck...Bastards."  
  
Heather: "Well at least we are home free."  
  
She walked to the gate, and grabed the handle to open it.  
  
But it wouldn't budge.  
  
Heather: "What the?"  
  
Hiro: "What's wrong"  
  
Heather: "The gate. It won't open."  
  
Starkweather: "You really didn't think I'd let you get out of here that easily, did you? Ahahahahahahah!"  
  
Vince: "YOU BASTARD!"  
  
Starkweather: "Heh...Its an electronic lock, so go find the release switch...But I'll only allow one of you to go."  
  
Heather: "You asshole!"  
  
Starkweather: "You better decide quick, or you'll sit there for the rest of the night, hoping that the Skinz don't find you. Ahahahahahahahahaha!"  
  
Vince: "Fuck you!"  
  
No response. Again, he was gone.  
  
Vince: "Shit..."  
  
Hiro: "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."  
  
Vince: "You'll find the switch?"  
  
Hiro: "Yeah, it should be easy."  
  
Vince: "Alright...Don't get yourself scalped."  
  
Heather: "Yeah, come back soon."  
  
Hiro: "I will."  
  
And with that, Hiro walked off into the darkness, hoping that he wasn't making the worst mistake of his life.  
  
(Next- Devil In Disguise) 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen: Devil In Disguise  
  
(2:05am)  
  
Hiro quietly made his way through the junkyard. He clutched his .44, praying that he wouldn't have to use it...God...If only he could make this out alive, then he would have enough proof to bring the fuck down...Jesus Christ.  
  
So far there had been no Skinz in the area...He assumed they were all dead, and hopefully that was true. Occasionally he would come across a corpse of one of them, but that's it.  
  
Then he saw one who was defiantly not a skin. He was wearing slacks and a simple gray T-Shirt...He couldn't tell what the man looked like, or even what his race was due to the morbid amount of bruises and his face being caved in. It was disgusting.  
  
He walked past the corpse, and continued down a hill, where he saw a warehouse. He looked around, and saw three Skinz, sitting about and talking. Their bats were in one hand, and a beer was in the other.  
  
So. Let's see...Three, maybe more Skinz down there. If only three, they only had bats, but he'd have to make his shots count. It'd be best to scout the area first.  
  
And so he did. Sticking to the shadows closest to the facility, he crept along, catching bits and pieces of their conversation. It was the usual. How any race other than white was vile, who any religion other than Christian was crap, and how men are superior to women in every way. Typical redneck shit.  
  
He made a full 180 around the entire facility, and the only Skinz outside (unless hidden very fucking well) were at the entrance to the warehouse.  
  
So, he snuck up right behind them, he had his gun ready...He raised it, and fired.  
  
The first shot hit one of the Skinz right in the mid-back in the area of the spine. He went down, and if he wasn't dead, would probably be paralyzed. The other two turned around. He aimed again, and fired. It one of the others right in the eye. He dropped to the floor. The other stupidly charged, and took a bullet right down the throat as he opened his mouth to scream with rage.  
  
And that was it. All three of them dead. He walked into the building, and found it was empty. Well, not entirely empty. There were some crates stacked in different parts of the room, but there was no life, save for the rats. He walked into the back of the warehouse and saw a switch.  
  
He crept slowly towards it. If he knew Starkweather as well as he thought he did, there would be some sort of trap there...So he had to be on his guard, or it could cost him his life.  
  
He reached the switch, and pulled it. He heard a click, and nothing more.  
  
He waited a good full minute...Nothing...  
  
Ok...So that was that then...Time to get back to the others.  
  
He ran across the junkyard as fast as he could. If there were any Skinz around, they probably would have heard him. Luckily for him, there weren't any.  
  
Shit...  
  
The only thought which came to Starkweather's mind right now... Was that Cash had gotten out of their grasp...  
  
One minute they had him, the next minute they didn't...To top it all off, Ramirez was dead...  
  
FUCK!  
  
How could this happen?! How could this fucking happen! FUCKING HELL!  
  
Wait...Wait...Yes...YES! AHAHAHAHAHA!  
  
The Carcer City Police Department...Beautiful! That's all he had to do. Get them to find him, and send Cash to him...Beautiful...  
  
This could work out...He wasn't fucked yet.  
  
He picked up his phone, and called the chief of police.  
  
Jon saw the gate, and with luck, saw Heather and Vince.  
  
Jon: "HEY!"  
  
Vince: "Huh? Shit! Ahahaha! Your still alive, eh Gray?"  
  
Jon: "Yeah! Fuckin' more alive than ever. Shit man, I had to kill so many of those fucks just to get out of that fuckin' mall."  
  
Starkweather: "Looks like you got there just in time, Johnny Boy."  
  
He smiled at the others, and was glad Starkweather said it so only he could hear.  
  
Heather: "God, I thought you were dead."  
  
Jon: "I wouldn't be surprised if you did. I was gone for a long time. Where's Hiro?"  
  
Hiro: "Right here. Hey Gray!"  
  
Hiro walked up from behind the others, and walked to the gate that separated them. He pushed it, and it opened.  
  
Vince: "Way to go Hiro!"  
  
Heather: "Nice!"  
  
Hiro: "Thank you, thank you."  
  
Jon: "So...Where to next?"  
  
Cerberi: "DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPONS NOW!"  
  
And just as Starkweather said, the Cerberi pounced. They had MP5s, combat shotguns, and M16s. The leader had a Deagle. Beautiful. Even if he decided to say "Fuck you, Starkweather. I'll do my own thing" he couldn't, unless he wanted tons-o-fuckin' holes in him. They walked up slowly, with their guns aimed...  
  
Vince: "Fuck..."  
  
(Next- Ode to Madness) 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Ode to Madness  
  
(2:45am)  
  
Vince walked around the cold, dark, damp room. It had been about 15 minutes since he had woken up. Naturally, the first thing on his mind was where the fuck he was, where the fuck the others were, and most of all... What the fuck Starkweather had planned for him...  
  
Vince: "Goddamnit..."  
  
Starkweather: "Ah, alright now. Wake up, cowboy. Scrambled eggs suit your fancy? Haha."  
  
Vince: "What the fuck is this about Starkweather?! Haven't the body counts been great enough for you?!"  
  
Starkweather: "Well, I can't talk long. I have a problem, so I have to be frank. This is the last place in this whole fuckin' city I need film from. You have three problems: The Smileys, Turkeyhead, and another, secret surprise."  
  
Vince: "Wait! Turkeyhead?"  
  
Starkweather: "Yeah. You'll see."  
  
Vince: "And another surprise?"  
  
A long pause...Nothing...GODDAMNIT!  
  
He heard a click, and the metal grated door slid open in front of him.  
  
Vince: "Shit...So now I have to find a weapon, the others, and survive whatever fucks which are here. Fuck..." If this night didn't kill him, he probably would do it himself later.  
  
Starkweather was frightened, and pissed. He didn't know what to do. Cash was loose, the SWAT and the Cops had failed, and it was the Cerberi and only the Cerberi protecting him from that psychopathic madman. He wasn't expecting this.  
  
And to top off all the fuckin' things that could have gone wrong, Piggsy had to get out. That fuckin' psycho! Both hated him, and both could tear his Cerberi apart...Shit...  
  
At least he had the best five Cerberi with him in his office. They had M16s, and were his last defense...Shit...If Cash got into the mansion; he wouldn't know what would happen next.  
  
At least he wouldn't have to worry about Vincent or Hiro...He had Jon to take care of them along with Turkeyhead, a real grade-A crazy fuck-up, and the Smileys...Shit...  
  
Off in the god-forsaken loony bin of Carcer City, Hiro hid in the darkness of the cell... He didn't know what to do. He found himself a hammer, but he knew it would be no use...  
  
These fucks had bats, meat cleavers, hammers, pistols, and shotguns: Both combat and sawn-off...  
  
If he could just get a gun, everything would be all right.  
  
Smiley 1: "Where are you, you weasly witchedy witchedy scumbag?...Why my shoes, there are plenty of other shoes out there, why mine?...I'll have his head-juice and see how he likes it...I know you're here! You left a trail of head-juice!"  
  
God...He was fucked...Shit...  
  
The Smiley walked off, and about five minutes later another passed by.  
  
Smiley 2: "One two buckle my shoe, three four cut up a whore!"  
  
He had his back turned...He had a pistol...A Glock...Now or never.  
  
He quickly snuck up on him, and sprung his attack.  
  
Smiley 2: "Fug fug fug fug-"  
  
He spun the hunter around, and hit him hard in the stomach with the hammer. The deranged man doubled over, and spit up a mouth full of blood. Hiro then swung the hammer underhand, and it connected with the hunter's face, creating a gruesome sound of metal against bone. The hunter's head cracked backwards more than should be physically possible, and he spas up blood before falling onto his back, dead.  
  
Hiro reached down, while not looking at the hunter's face, and picked up the Glock. It had five rounds in it...If he was lucky, he could find more. If time wasn't on his side, then he'd just take a bullet...Better than being murdered by these fucks.  
  
On the other side of the asylum, Jon was also pissed. Starkweather had copped out on their deal. He had yet to call and tell him where Heather was, and that made him angry. Not just angry; significantly more than that. Furious. Controlled fury, it was always under control- but goddamnit this was not how things were supposed to be.  
  
And then to top it all off, the bastards he was dealing with were perhaps more loco than he was. At least he didn't walk around in women's clothing and smiley facemasks ranting about husbands named "Barry".  
  
Smiley 3: "Barry! Come on! Think of the kids! You wouldn't run out on the kids would you?!"  
  
Jon just wanted to find Heather, and then find Starkweather. He gripped the edge of the meat cleaver, and hopped he'd run into her soon.  
  
Smiley 3: "I SAW YOU WITH THAT WHORE!"  
  
God...What a fuckin' loon. Not to say he wasn't amusing in his own right, were it not for the fact that he was so pissed, Jon acknowledged that he'd be laughing.  
  
Smiley 3: "Smoking, drinking, fucking whores! That's all you do! I swear to god I'm going to take the kids and leave! You bastard! And don't bother hiding in the garage! I threw out all your liquor!"  
  
Jon: "Battered housewife says what?" Grinning at the thrill of the soon-to- be kill.  
  
The hunter turned around, and was greeted with Jon's blade to his face as he sputtered out a surprised "Wha-". They could condition themselves out of sanity, but not instinct. The man stumbled backwards, and fell to the floor. Jon bent over, and grabbed the revolver he was carrying. A .38...Fuckin' ghetto-ass piece of shit, but it was better than nothing. The mere three rounds within it, however, made him re-consider the raw gayery of the situation.  
  
Heather, on the other hand, clutched her sawn-off against her chest, and hid in the shadows. She didn't want to be found. She didn't want to kill anyone. She was afraid...Very afraid.  
  
Smiley 4: "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE, YOU WHORE! STAY AWAY FROM MY BARRY!"  
  
She shivered...God...They were insane. So insane that it hurt her just to hear their screams.  
  
Smiley 5: "KIDS! DADDY'S HOME! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  
  
God, make them go away. Hiro, Vince, Gray, save me! Please!  
  
Smiley 6: "THERE YOU ARE!"  
  
She opened her eyes, and saw the man standing 4 feet in front of her, looking down at her. He had a pistol. Without thinking, she aimed high and fired. The man's head became no more, and he fell to the ground. She then heard running.  
  
Heather: "Fuck!"  
  
She got up, and ran.  
  
Vince heard it...It sounded like a gunshot. Hard to pinpoint, but he had to find it. Shit. The nail in his shoulder was gone...He had ripped it out a bit ago, and now it hurt like a mo'fo...It stopped bleeding about four minutes ago, and he was sure it would start again later.  
  
Slowly, and steadily "it" made its way through the compound. Clutched within its right hand, a massive frozen leg of lamb with several spikes protruding from it. Within its left... Well, there was no left hand. Its left hand seemed to be a half-shredded slew of grimy red meat. Like a steak met a blender. And lo and behold, it found another presence within the compound and began a gradual step-after-step pace over.  
  
Smiley 7: "THERE YOU ARE BARRY!"  
  
The man charged with his bat, and soon his face was hit with the slab of surprisingly heavy frozen meat. He fell to the ground on his face, which was now bleeding. Those spikes did a lot more than just decorate the lamb's limb.  
  
It walked towards him, slowly, and he dropped his weapon. He grabbed the man by his arm, and proceeded to bludgeon him to death with his left meat- hand.  
  
It looked at the mess it made. It was pleased. Such thoughts were fleeting however, and it set about the task of finding more to remove from this world.  
  
Hiro heard gunfire...It sounded as if it was on the other end of the complex. He had found more ammo for his glock, and dispatched several of those lunatics...He also came across a room full of corpses...  
  
They were hanging by meat hooks from the ceiling, and most were naked. Some had gunshot wounds, some were utterly dismembered...It was one disturbing site which he would remember 'till the day he died... If it wasn't within a few minutes.  
  
But now was not the time...He had to find out where the gunshot came from before it was too late.  
  
Starkweather knew it...He was pretty much fucked...It had been a good hour since Cash got onto the premises, and now he had killed just about all the Cerberi in the mansion...  
  
Piggsy had also killed a lot of his personal guard ...And he was kind of his last hope, sadly...If Piggsy could kill Cash, it would be great...Fuck, it would be more than great. It would be the fuckin' happiest moment of his entire fuckin' life!  
  
He had all the footage he needed to make a great series of snuff films, and this would make him even more rich than now! Hell, the camera was still rolling, so even though Cash's movies were done, there was still more being shot! He could release them as special footage: CASH KILLS ELITE TEAM OF SOLDIERS, CASH VS. PIGGSY: THE BATTLE OF THE MILLENIUM.  
  
All that needed to happen was for him to survive...He couldn't die now...He just couldn't...  
  
He looked on the monitor, and saw that Piggsy had attacked the elevator that Cash was in...Good...It was only a matter of time before Cash was dead...Beautiful...  
  
Jon heard the gunshot, and realized it was close to where he was. He ran towards it. He heard running, and gunfire. He saw a corner, and before he could reach it, busty Heather ran around it, and she saw Jon.  
  
Heather: "OH GRAY! HELP ME!"  
  
Jon raised his gun, and saw the first of the two round the corner. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the man in the jugular. The man stumbled as red crimson claret sprayed the walls, floor, and anything else. The next man ran around the corner, and acted like nothing happened. He was greeted with a bullet to his nose. His face was no more, and he fell into the pool of red. Jon calmly walked over to the two dead men, and collected their ammo. He then turned to face Heather.  
  
Heather: "Oh thank god! Thank you, Gray!"  
  
She ran up to hug him, but before she got near, he backhanded her. She hit the floor.  
  
Heather: "What the hell is wrong with you, Gray?"  
  
Jon: "The name's not Gray, lassie... It's McRinehart, Jon McRinehart.And you're about to see what the hell is wrong with me." He grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her into an empty cell. She was screaming. He threw her onto the bed, and backhanded her again.  
  
Jon: "You're making me angry, Heather. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry... Unless you like it rough, tee-hee! So shut the fuck up..."  
  
He shoved the gun under her skirt, and pressed it right against her panty- covered puss.  
  
Jon: "Or you'll experience a new type of penetration."  
  
Heather stopped screaming, but was silently crying. Jon smiled at this.  
  
Moonlight was upon them through the glass window directly behind them...It was large too, and amazing how it didn't have any bars on it...Didn't matter to him though.  
  
He then slowly began to move the barrel of the gun around. Rubbing it against her panties.  
  
Heather: "Please don't"  
  
Jon: "Shut up, shut up, just fucking SHUT up."  
  
She squirmed a bit.  
  
Jon: "You fighting back is just gonna make things harder for the both of us... Ahah, although I personally am hard enough for the both of us as it is."  
  
She squirmed a bit more and it pissed him off, and so as a reaction he grabbed her by the throat.  
  
Jon: "Give me an excuse to pull the trigger, whore...I fuckin' dare ya."  
  
She stopped moving. He began to rub harder, and he heard her silently moaning in pleasure and fear. She didn't want it, but she did at the same time. That's how women worked...Fuckin' sluts.  
  
Jon: "You know...You are a very beautiful woman..."  
  
Heather had a look of intense fear and hatred at the moment.  
  
Jon: "Y'know hun, I've fucked so goddamn many of your female breed- I really have; and yet you're special. And I can't quite put my finger on it," He chuckled, "That's a pun, girl. But you and I, we got something in common... Know what that is, moonpie?"  
  
Heather made a pathetic little attempt to shake her head.  
  
Jon: "Death...Madness...What ever you want to call this...We don't belong here, no...We haven't done anything to society to deserve this...Sure, I've killed many before and raped many women before- but they deserved it, mind you. They fucking deserved it. Prancing about like they owned the fuckin' place, waving their teats around, sayin' shit like 'Lookie what I got! Ain't they great! But NOPE! You can't have them!' It fuckin' pisses me off. Think they're the hottest shit to hit this Earth. They are just ASKING to be raped. ASKING to be punished. Asking? No, BEGGING! They may as well just tell me 'Jon, hurt me bad' with a neon goddamn sign! Same with death! These people, these fuckin' bastards act like they are grade A human fuckin' beings! But guess what?! They aren't! No! They fuckin' aren't... You goddamn think your hands aren't stained with blood, slut? THEY FUCKING ARE!" He was grinning, but the voice was absolutely enraged.  
  
More tears dripped slowly down Heather's cheek. And he was right, to some degree anyways. She did have blood on her hands.  
  
Jon: "Take Hiro for example. So a man has a fuckin' fascination with death. It's a fuckin' art, that's all it is. Its not like it's hurting anyone by having snuff films. Nobody important, anyways. And then there is Vince...If you are afraid of me, you should be afraid of him more...That fuck is unpredictable...It's the unpredictable ones you need to watch out for...How, you might ask? How 'tall dark and handsome' would be unpredictable? Simple...Look at his fuckin' eyes, babe..." A pause...A long one. Perhaps for a full minute. "You can tell he is diggin' this shit as much as I am. But I CAME here like that. I admit to raping the kids, honey. He didn't. I can tell. He just got his first taste of sadistic killing earlier today, and he is enjoying it...He might deny it, but he is...Hell, I could be wrong, but I doubt it...That grade-A asshole...Fuckin' hell...But like I said, sugar. You and I are the same...We were made for each other...And in intercourse, we will grow closer... And by the time I sever your clit and chew it like bubble gum, then goddamn go postal on your fucking WHORE body with a cleaver ...How fuckin' exciting! We're like two PEAS in a FUCKING pod, honey!"  
  
He released her neck, and grabbed at her blouse, unbuttoning it slowly for the sake of making himself suffer with anticipation and her with suspense, revealing a white bra.  
  
Jon: "And now for the real fun to begin."  
  
Vince: "Drop your fuckin' gun, Gray!"  
  
Jon stopped. He slowly turned his head and saw Vince was standing there with a gun, and was pointing it right at his face.  
  
Jon: "Vince, what an unpleasant surprise... Care to join me? You know you want to."  
  
Vince: "Let her go!"  
  
Jon: "Vinny Vinny, hey. Tell me, Sinful Vin- mind if I call you that? Nah, sounds gay. But I gotta know, Vinny... When you killed those guys, did you get a wood?"  
  
Vince: "What?"  
  
Jon: "Now don't get me wrong, you can be honest. I know I was. Nearly bust a zipper and a nut!"  
  
Vince: "Just shut the fuck up and drop your fuckin' gun"  
  
Jon: "Don't believe I will, old boy."  
  
Vince: "What the fuck is wrong with you man? Huh? You fuckin' get your kicks on this shit don't ya?"  
  
Jon: "Yes. Yes I do. Something wrong with that?"  
  
Vince: "There is fuckin' plenty wrong with it...Now I don't want to kill you, but I will if you don't drop that fuckin' gun right fuckin' now!"  
  
Jon: "Nah... I don't feel like it..."  
  
Vince pulled the hammer back on the gun, as if to signify to Jon "I will kill you" in an attempt to scare him.  
  
Jon: "Yeah, well, fuck you."  
  
Vince: "Gray, your fuckin' crazy."  
  
Jon: "Yeah, ain't it cool?"  
  
And with a flash, something hit Vince in the side of the head. Vince flew about 5 feet, and landed on his left arm. The gun went about five feet away from him. Jon got up, and ran out of the cell, intent on getting the fuck out of there when he saw it.  
  
Something, which would have come out of a bad horror movie. It was about seven feet tall, and was wearing an upside-down raw, uncooked turkey of massive proportions on his head as some sort of helmet. No eyeholes or breathing spaces visible. He wore a brown business suit with matching slacks and black shoes. His tie was a genuine decayed beaver, and his hands were odder than the rest of these factors combined.  
  
His left hand WAS a slab of red uncooked raw meat, and he was holding a massive frozen lamb leg with spikes in it in his right hand.  
  
Jon: "What the fuck... Kickass suit, homes..."  
  
Before he could say more, the monster creature hit him with the meat, and he hit the window, and was falling into the darkness.  
  
Heather didn't know what was going on. One moment Gray was attempting to rape her, the next Vince was standing with a gun pointed to him. And then he was on the floor, and Jon flew out a window...What the shit?!  
  
And she saw what caused this. This monster...This thing.  
  
Heather: "Oh god!"  
  
She heard gunshots, and saw it was coming from where Vince was.  
  
Vince: "DIE MOTHERFUCKER, DIE!"  
  
The beast turned its attention to Vince, and began to walk slowly towards him. She couldn't tell if it was a man or beast, and she didn't want to know at all. She just wanted out of there.  
  
Vince: "HEATHER! RUN NOW!"  
  
The beast was past the cell, and she heard more gunfire. She bolted up, and ran behind the beast and past the two men Gray had killed. Dear god.  
  
Vince's gunfire stopped.  
  
Vince: "Shit!"  
  
She picked up her sawn-off, and aimed it at the beast. She fired both shots, and the thing turned towards her.  
  
Vince: "What the hell are you doing! Get the fuck out of here!"  
  
Heather reloaded her gun with her last two shells, and fired again. But all the beast did was stumble back an inch. Fuck. She had to get out of here. She turned and ran when she hit something. It was Hiro.  
  
Hiro: "What the hell?!"  
  
Heather: "RUN!"  
  
She ran past him, and ran down the hallway.  
  
Hiro saw the thing, and couldn't believe his eyes...This couldn't be real, it just couldn't. He raised his glock, and fired at it. He emptied the clip into it, but to no avail. He turned, and mimicked what Heather did which seemed to be the best idea: run.  
  
It wanted to kill them. No reason. They somehow offended it. It didn't know why, it didn't care why. It just wanted them dead. It slowly walked down the hall as five loud things screamed at it. Two of them raised things, and loud noises came from them. It felt things hit its flesh. It didn't mind it though. It didn't really hurt it. Nothing could hurt it.  
  
Starkweather sat in his office, clutching his .38...Piggsy had failed, and it was now up to his last Cerberi to protect him from harm...Jesus...Sweet fuckin' Jesus...  
  
Vince on the other hand, noticed a guardroom to his left. He broke down the door, and found combat shotguns, shells, and ammo for his glock. He grabbed all the clips he could, and stuffed his pockets with shells. He loaded eight shells into his gun, and ran down the hall. He saw the beast's back as it slowly lumbered towards where he assumed Hiro and Heather ran off to. He heard the Smileys gunfire and screaming. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he assumed there was no sense to it. He aimed at the beast's head, and fired all eight rounds into it.  
  
Of course, some of the pellets would miss: the one major flaw of the shotgun. But, it would do damage.  
  
Still, somehow this thing wasn't going down. He saw that a hole was growing larger and larger in his "helmet", and he realized what he had to do.  
  
The beast was still lumbering towards the Smileys and was ignoring Vince.  
  
Vince ran up, and tackled the beast.  
  
It landed on top of the last Smiley, crushing it. He pointed his gun downwards, and quickly unloaded all fifteen bullets into the hole.  
  
He waited a good minute before he got off the beast and looked down. There was a huge pool of red, which literally covered every square inch of the floor. God...What a mess...  
  
He walked back to the guardroom, and found a duffel bag. He stuffed it full of shells, and grabbed another shotgun. He walked from the guard room, and looked back down the hall where the beast was...  
  
It was gone...  
  
(Next- Personal Hell) 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Personal Hell  
  
(4:30 am)  
  
Smiley 8: "COME HERE BARRY! WE NEED TO HAVE A LITTLE TALK!"  
  
Smiley 9: "HEADJUICE! HEADJUICE! I WANT YOUR FUCKIN' HEADJUICE!"  
  
Hiro and Heather ran. They were both tired, and Heather really wasn't in good shape at the moment. He realized that in a matter of moments, they could die. Luckily for them, the three Smileys chasing them only had bats, though he knew what those bats could do if they were used in the way he knew they were gonna use them.  
  
Smiley 10: "FUG FUGADY FUG FUG FUG!"  
  
They rounded the corner, and Hiro spun around, aiming his gun.  
  
The three pursuers rounded the corner seconds after they did, and Hiro fired off three rounds. The first round hit one right between the eyes, the second hit him another the cheek, but the third shot missed. The survivor drew too close, and too quickly. He felt the bat hit his left arm, and heard a crack.  
  
He screamed in intense agony as the bone broke through his flesh and began to drip with blood. The Smiley aimed for another hit, but Hiro stumbled backwards to avoid it.  
  
He fell over, and was certain this would mean their deaths.  
  
However, a loud crack behind him signified that this wasn't the case, and Mr. Smiley would no longer have the privilege of being among the living.  
  
The shell hit the man in the chest, and he flew back about a foot or two, landing on top of his dead comrades, moaning in pain. Hiro got up slowly, and took note that Heather had used the sawn-off to dispatch the bastard. Hiro picked up his gun, and walked right up to him.  
  
Smiley 8: "Barry! No, please don't Barry! I'm sorry! We can work things out, can't we?! Think of the children! Think of the children!"  
  
He fired off a shot right into the man's forehead, and he begged no more. Checking over his arm, Hiro found it was throbbing with intense pain. He hated that feeling, as if there was a massive pulse in his arm- it couldn't be ignored.  
  
Hiro: "Fuck."  
  
Heather: "Damnit...Of all the things...I'm sorry, Hiro."  
  
Hiro: "Sorry for what?"  
  
Heather: "I should have shot him earlier..."  
  
Hiro: "Don't worry about it. It hurts like a sonovabitch, but it's okay. We can make it out of here if we hurry."  
  
Heather: "We have to find Vince."  
  
Hiro: "Damnit...He's probably dead, you know that right?"  
  
Heather: "It doesn't matter! You're saying that we should just leave 'cause he might be fucking dead?! He could be alive, and we could be his only goddamned motherfucking hope! You fucking prick! We aren't leaving until we know for sure!"  
  
Hiro: "I never said we'd leave without him, I'm just making sure you know he might be dead?"  
  
Heather: "I fucking know that, but Vince has saved me twice today, and saved you!"  
  
Hiro: "I fucking know that."  
  
Heather: "Then what the hell are we waiting for!"  
  
She had changed. He noticed how this whole series of events took away her innocence...He heard once that the first casualty of war was innocence...But it seems that innocence is usually a casualty in just about any harsh situation. Forcing to watch sick, twisted bastards attempt to rape you, forced to watch horrible, sadistic deaths...No, murders. They weren't just deaths, they were murders. We might have a justified reason for committing these horrendous crimes, but we still are goddamned psychopathic murderers!  
  
They proceeded to walk back from where they came, and Hiro secretly prayed that they wouldn't run into that monster again. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that thing? It looked human, but then again it didn't. I mean, who the fuck could take that many bullets without showing signs of pain? Even guys in flak-jackets or Kevlar gear showed signs of pain when shot. Hell, they'd usually fly back outright...  
  
If they did run into it, they'd have no choice but to get the flying Philadelphia fuck out of there. Though he'd feel bad that they left Vince to his possible death, some things were more important. If there was no way in hell you could save someone, why suffer more casualties trying?  
  
It would probably eat him up 'till the day he died (Which could be any fuckin' minute from now), but it didn't matter...At least he would be able to save one person...  
  
Jon woke up feeling intense pain throughout his body. God...He'd couldn't remember if he had ever been in this much pain in his life, but it didn't matter. He was feeling a helluva lot of pain at the moment.  
  
Jon stood up, and looked at the window. He fell about two stories, but had his fall broken by tree branches. Not the most comfortable way down, but it was better than a straight fall. And at the same time, the throbbing tingle buzzing about his nerves was sort of erotic.  
  
He felt sharp pain in his back, and was sure he had pieces of glass lodged in it. He tried to walk, but his ankle was all screwy. It wasn't broken...No...Probably just twisted or sprained...Fucking miracle that he didn't break any bones or die, though he didn't mind death or pain...It's just he'd prefer not to die here, or be really fucked up here.  
  
That thing...It was impressive, was a snazzy dresser without a doubt, but was now definitely on his shit list. Fucker smacked him out a window with a piece of dead animal...You just don't do that unless they deserved it, and he really didn't see how or why he would deserve such a thing.  
  
But it didn't matter...His work was almost finished...He just now had to kill Hiro, Vince, and that goddamned motherfucking whorish bitch slut who some other whore named Heather.  
  
Goddamned two timing bitch. She would die a very, very, VERY painful death. He could have his fun with her after death and guarantee his pleasure, or before and guarantee her pain. Damn it, arrogance versus practicality once again. He'd decide later.  
  
Vince slowly made his way through the asylum. He heard more gunshots, and prayed that it wasn't "Turkeyhead" having his fucked-up way with Heather and Hiro. Jesus...He fired fifteen fuckin' rounds into the back of that thing's skull, and it still got up and walked away. How the fuck could it do that?!  
  
It didn't matter...What mattered was getting the fuck out of this hellish city, alive.  
  
He ran down the hallway some more, and heard a scream. He stopped dead in his tracks, and pressed his back to the wall...  
  
He crept along it slowly, and peaked his head around the corner.  
  
He saw Turkeyhead pick up a Smiley and it was beating him with a slow, methodic rhythm against the cell bars. It gave up on this after the victim couldn't even comprehend the pain anymore, and pressed with all the might of... Whatever the fuck it was. The result was a symphony of moist snaps and crunches that echoed through the halls, and a Smiley who no mortician, no matter how skilled, could bring to look human again. He was on the other side of the bars. The bars had not faltered, Turkeyhead had not faltered, the Smiley's body had.  
  
Blood, guts, bone, and other bodily shit poured all over the concrete.  
  
Jesus...That thing was stronger than he imagined...  
  
The thing looked in his general direction, and Vince quickly pulled his head back to behind the corner...  
  
Shit, he spotted me. I'll be dead in moments.  
  
But that was not the case, it seemed. He heard its lumbering footsteps walk away from him.  
  
Good. But now he had to find the others before it did. Jesus.  
  
He turned back around, and took a different route, going through the guardrooms, locker rooms, etc. He saw corpses everywhere. He knew it was the work of either (a) Gray, (b) Hiro, or (c) Turkeyhead. He was sure it was either Gray or Turkeyhead though, due primarily to how horrendous the bodies looked. Fuckin' mutilated. Only Gray or the beast was capable of that. Hiro might kill one sadistically, but not that sadistically.  
  
But Vinny, what about you? Your 'victims' were mutilated. The murders were probably more sadistic than Gray's.  
  
Fuck you. Now's not the time for this shit.  
  
Oh, really? I think it's the perfect time for this shit. You're a cold- blooded unpredictable psychopathic madman who gets his kicks on death. You're as bad as Starkweather.  
  
No I'm not.  
  
Ugh, not this again. Yes you are!  
  
No!  
  
Yes!  
  
NO!  
  
YES!  
  
NO!  
  
YES!  
  
NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!  
  
YES TIMES INFINITY! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  
  
Vince: "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING PRICK! I FUCKING HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS!"  
  
And the door in front of him crashed open. Shit, now he did it. Turkeyhead was gonna get him now. He turned around and made a mad dash for the door. The beast was slowly walking towards him, but he somehow knew that the thing would know everywhere he went, no matter what. Goddamnit!  
  
It must catch up. It would catch up. The figure was running. They always did. But it always caught up. Black and white. Gray. Shades of gray. A rainbow of gray tones. It kept running. But it would find him. It would batter him until he stopped. It always did.  
  
Jon limped his way back into the building. He didn't know where to go, and he had lost his .38, and he only had his trusty switch-blade. Sure, it would be handy for sneaking up on a guy, but not charging. Specially if they had a gun, or were that beast. That goddamned fucking beast!  
  
When he got home, he would bust out the black tar, get higher than a fuckin' space shuttle, and grab some whore and rape her till she bled. Then, cut her. Cut her up into small fuckin' pieces, and for some reason he wanted to shove the pieces into the microwave. Not sure why, but it would be fun. Perhaps tasty as well, if not greasy.  
  
He walked into the next room, and found what he wanted. Pure luck? No chance. Divine intervention, however, was not out of the question.  
  
He spotted a meat cleaver and a SPAS 12 combat shotgun. Beautiful. He now had the firepower to keep that fucking monster, and any other fuckin' Smiley away while he looked for Vince, Hiro, and Heather...Who shouldn't be that hard to find. All he had to do was follow the gunfire. Sort of like Lucky of Lucky Charms, 'cept he aint no goddamned midget Irishman (Thank god) and it would be very messy at the end of this rainbow.  
  
Heather was never more scared in her life (even surpassing her fright from earlier), yet wasn't showing it. She just wanted to find Vince, and have all three of them get the hell out of there. He saved her from being sexually assaulted twice and saved her life. Jesus. She owed him big. Hiro saved her, but it wasn't as impactful as Vince. Hiro was more like the protector, a bodyguard. He was doing his job, hell he was a cop for Pete's sake.  
  
But Vince...He was like a knight in shining armor, popping up when you think all is lost and saving the day.  
  
She didn't believe what Jon had said, and she wouldn't believe him. Vince wasn't psychopathic, and didn't enjoy this. Hell, he probably had a family and a girl at home, and he wanted to get to them...But damn...She wanted him bad.  
  
They hadn't come across any Smileys, but they had heard massive footsteps occasionally, which showed that Vince wasn't able to finish the monster; but that didn't mean that he kicked the bucket.  
  
No. It could just mean that he couldn't handle it on his own, and got away. She didn't blame him if he did. She didn't think really anything could kill it.  
  
But out of all the things, she was happy. Jon was dead. He couldn't have survived. Thank god...That bastard.  
  
Hiro heard screams, and was sure it was more Smileys getting massacred by the fuckin' beast. Jesus...What was its body count now? Probably most of the entire fuckin' gang!  
  
He heard footsteps coming from behind a door, and readied his Glock.  
  
The door burst open, and he saw Vince come out. He lowered his gun, and smiled.  
  
Hiro: "You son-of-a-"  
  
Vince: "Shut the fuck up! The fuckin' monster is right fuckin' behind me!"  
  
Hiro heard it, and almost shat a brick.  
  
Hiro: "SHIT!"  
  
Vince slammed the door.  
  
Vince: "RUN!"  
  
They all turned and started to run. They ran their fucking asses off away from the door, and about ten seconds of this they heard the door behind them collapse with force, which only the monster could create.  
  
Jon heard screaming, but couldn't recognize the voices. Some moments later, he heard a door break down...The monster was in that direction, and hopefully the shit team was too.  
  
They ran down the corridor, and Vince knew that they would be dead if they slow down.  
  
They ran down a bunch of stairs, and went out into the greenhouse. Why this place would have a greenhouse was anyone's guess, but he didn't give a rat's ass. Probably some pathetic attempt to teach the mentally deranged to grow potted plants.  
  
When they got out into the area, he saw Jon standing there, alive and well.  
  
Vince stopped in his tracks. Hiro and Heather noticed this, and stopped. They saw Jon, and Hiro raised his gun.  
  
Vince: "No!"  
  
Hiro looked stunned, and Jon smiled.  
  
Vince: "I'll deal with him...Just get Heather the fuck out of here...Got it?"  
  
Hiro: "Uh, yeah..."  
  
Heather: "NO! Vince! NO! Come on! Please!"  
  
Vince: "Just go...Now..."  
  
Hiro grabbed her, and carried her to the other end. She was screaming, and attempting to break free from his grasp. It seemed that he had a hard time keeping a hold on her due to his arm, but he managed. After a few minutes, they were gone.  
  
Turkeyhead didn't appear, and he assumed that the beast got sidetracked...Good.  
  
Jon: "How touching. A psychopath has a lady-love who he doesn't wish to be harmed. Very beautiful. Very touching. Speaking of touching, I've got some details about her to dish..."  
  
Vince: "Shut the fuck up, Gray."  
  
Jon: "The name is Jon, cap'n."  
  
Vince: "Whoopdy shit."  
  
Jon: "Your insulting skills rival that of... Hm, well, an American. Or a jar of mayo, either way." Pause. "So. How shall we do this?"  
  
Vince had picked up a meat cleaver, and he saw Jon was pretty much equipped the same way.  
  
Vince: "Meat cleavers..."  
  
Jon: "Fair's fair, although impractical. But I like the drama. Let's dance, honky-bitch."  
  
Vince dropped his shotgun, and Jon did the same.  
  
It would be fun to kill this ingrate son-of-a-bitch with meat cleaver. Though the other two would get away, this would calm him down some. He hoped Starkweather was dead, and he never would know. He wouldn't bother finding out where the mansion was when he finished this prick off. What did it matter?  
  
Jon: "You and I...We have the same love...Though we are different, we have the same love."  
  
Vince: "What?"  
  
Jon: "Murder. Death, snuff, sadism. Whatever you wanna call it."  
  
Vince: "I don't love it, I hate it."  
  
Jon: "Your mouth says no no, but your eyes say yes yes. The same look I've seen in many-a-lady."  
  
Vince: "Fuck you."  
  
Jon: "I don't swing that way, you psychopathic asshole."  
  
Vince: "I'm not a psychopath. You are, remember?"  
  
Jon: "I won't deny that I am a wee bit nutty in the head, but you have lots of screws loose too...You're worse- at least for now. Only because people actually trust you... Damn idjuts."  
  
Vince: "Fuck you. I ain't like that."  
  
Jon: "Sure you ain't, son. Say, here's a typical answer to the question: How many people did you kill today? 'None, you sicko, get away!' So tell me Vince, let's see how your count compares to Joe Average. How many people did you kill today?"  
  
Vince: "It's different! I don't like this!"  
  
Jon: "What is there to be ashamed of, Vince? Honestly, nothing. Ya damn pansy. So you're a wack-job who gets off to killing. Big fuckin' deal. Lots of folks do. It's okay to feel empowered, Vince! Hell, Oprah does this sort of thing all the time I bet, and lookit her!"  
  
Vince: "You're wrong."  
  
Jon: "Am I? I seriously doubt that."  
  
Vince: "Fuck you...Lets get this over with..."  
  
Jon: "Suit yourself."  
  
They began to pace. Circling around. Watching each other like hawks.  
  
They slowly got closer and closer, and then Jon was the first to strike. He swung a left hook, which hit Vince right in the side of the face.  
  
Blood spurted from Vince's mouth, and he just barely dodged a swipe at his ribs. His shirt was cut though, which gave him a great dislike of how close the blow came to his flesh.  
  
Vince countered, and kicked Jon's left leg. The result was forcing Jon to fall to the ground instantly as it was previously injured, but he was greeted by an uppercut to his crotch. He stumbled backwards in pain, and Jon was up in a flash. He made a mad dash at Vince, and swung his cleaver at his head.  
  
Vince ducked the attack, and hit Jon hard in the ribs. He was winded, but it didn't stop him in the least. He swiped the blade downwards, and it cut Vince on the side of the face despite the efforts made to dodge.  
  
Vince stumbled back some more, and when he regained his balance, was greeted by a vicious sidekick, knocking him to the ground instantly as the other man's heel connected with his chest. After a brief disagreement, physics stepped in, and deemed that Vince went into a sprawl.  
  
He rolled several feet to his left to avoid a stomp, and then swung his cleaver at Jon's leg. Jon winced in pain, or perhaps pleasure, but merely countered by slamming his own blade down in a double-handed grip. It hit Vince in the side, creating a large gash.  
  
Vince was up, dripping with blood and hit Jon on the shoulder with his blade, and was greeted with a second hit to the same cut.  
  
They both moaned in pain, and Vince ripped the blade from Jon's shoulder, and brought it into Jon's gut.  
  
Jon groaned, and attempted to break free, but Vince pushed it in deeper.  
  
Blood was dripping like mad from both of them, and they were both growing weaker.  
  
Finally, Vince hit Jon in the face, and Jon fell over.  
  
He proceeded to kick him for a good thirty seconds, and then regained control of himself.  
  
Jon wasn't dead however, but was dying...His breath was getting shorter and wetter. Blood seeped from his leg, torso, and face... And even with all this pain, he still had a smile on. Perhaps he'd eaten McDonalds recently, but more likely it was his nature.  
  
He crawled backwards, and laid his back on a wall...  
  
Jon: "Heh...Te-...Tell me, Vincent...Di-...Did you get a wo-...Did you ge...Get a wood when you were kickin' the shit out of me?"  
  
Vince: "Mohagony..."  
  
Jon: "Ahahaha...Nice...Vince...I have a question for you...H-..."  
  
He trails off. He attempts again, but it is weak and Vince can't hear it...  
  
He should just grab the gun and put him out of his misery...  
  
Vince turned, and walked towards his weapons...He picked up the glock, and loaded a round in the chamber.  
  
Jon: "Vince! I have a question!"  
  
Vince: "What?"  
  
Jon: "How do-..."  
  
He trails off again, and it is weaker...Vince walks slowly towards Jon, and crouches right in front of him. He places the barrel of the gun on Jon's forehead, and Jon raises his left hand placing it on Vince's left shoulder.  
  
Jon: "H-...How does this feel?"  
  
Vince felt hot, intense pain deep in his gut. The blade ripped from the right side of his gut to the left side, and Jon giggled. Vince pulled the trigger, and Jon's brains were splattered on the wall.  
  
Vince fell over, and felt warm. He felt fuzzy. He felt happy, and he felt relieved...He felt all his worries go away. He closed his eyes to blink, and did not open them again. 


End file.
